


no more sorrow

by sutera



Category: The Last Remnant
Genre: M/M, Not-Your-Average-Time-Travel-fic-tbqh, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:36:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 72,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2641751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sutera/pseuds/sutera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently, awakening has a lot more consequences than Rush bargained for-- even when he's <i>supposed</i> to be dead. So when a far more powerful version of Timeshift comes into play, who better to fix this problem than <i>himself?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. brollach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm pretty new to the fandom and even this site u__u (//fanfictiondotnet person hyah) pls be gentle with me and i will be not-so-gentle w/ dash whomp lkajsf either way i hope readers enjoy this story! i am also 500% obsessed w/ timetravel fics but this won't be too cliche i hope. bESides i haven't seen a tt!fic rolling around in this fandom yet so tadaa!!! i hope you enjoy reading!

What exactly _can_ be considered _awakening_?

It is _strange_ at first, for why would there be a _need_ to awaken right _after_ the battle in which he had sacrificed himself? What exactly _is_ the point when he has made sure his family and friends are safe? Indeed, he thought that there would merely be _oblivion_ but instead, there is this overwhelming _darkness_ , _whispers_ coming to him from all around and he does not know where he is, does not know what he is _doing_ or whether he is even _thinkin_ g. The darkness is overwhelming in _nature_ and—how long has he _been_ here? How long has he floated in this space and thought and thought and _thought_ about his actions—for these _whispers_ do not quieten at all; they are accusatory in _nature_ and it is only then (oh, only _then_ ) that he realizes the _extent_ of how _angry_ they are—and what he is doing here and…

“This is your burden to bear.”

The imperious voice does not fail to cut through the rabble of _whispersshoutsSCREAMS_ echoing within his mind and he _thinks_ he turns, thinks that the Conqueror is right there beside him but he is _all around_ , _encompassing_ in nature for this space is not the afterlife, is not _anything_ because--!

“You were scared. You did not go through with what you promised.”

If he had a face, perchance it will have crumbled from such information, from the blows that come and he _wishes_ he can deny it, but he does not have a tongue nor mouth to speak—

( h _ow ironic. how **ironic**. the one **born** to speak with us is **speechless** , cannot express ours nor his **own** desires; such a **disappointment** —_ )

\--At least, he _thinks_ he doesn’t but it _hurts_ somehow. It _aches_ within whatever bones he possesses and it _does not stop_ and it is only _then_ that he realizes the _gravity_ of how _pissed_ the remnants must be at him, for his eventual decision and the fate he has _imposed_ upon them for they are perhaps just like _him_ , floating in this darkness and unable to move and unable to _express_ but he can _feel_ their emotions now, feels _connected_ with them in more ways than one and he reflects such disappointment, the _anger_ within them because…

“You chose not to join me; you chose to go on your own path. Look what that has done to both you and your kin.”

He imagines that he blinks once, to the everlasting darkness above and below and beside him and he registers the pain once more, _piercing_ in nature but the sensations flit in and out, as if his thoughts are merely _scattered_ and he is not palpable enough for it to attack him. His mind is adrift and—

_How long have I been here?_

One…

Two…

Three…

“How many years did you intend for us to be kept within this prison?”

Four…

A _whisper_ then; he wonders how long it has taken for him to even string a _thought_ together, much less speak aloud the sentence, but even then, he is not sure whether the others can hear—( _but of **course** we can; connected through and in and between your soul; the product of our **desire** ultimately **denying** it’s fate; and we are so angry, so ANGRY and VENGEFUL how you FAIL in this simple TASK--!_ )—a wince, but can he really call even that action real?

Five…

Six…

“I… I meant to…”

His voice scatters.

“Whatever you meant, you had not meant to seal. You meant to _destroy_. Whatever the case, you have **betrayed** your _duty_.”

Seven…

The Conqueror is frank in his explanation, but Rush finds he cannot concentrate. The emotions and ( ** ~~ANGERANGERANGER~~** ) [ _hisduty_ ] are both one in the same and he has failed _them_ ; everything filters through his mind and he can look at it all, piece by _piece_ and there are so _many_ , so many _thoughts and rage and RAGE_ and--!

 _Eight_.

“ ~~Awaken.~~ ”

And he wakes _gasping_.


	2. ceann

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize dearly for typos orzorz i'll definitely edit this later on klajsf for now i will pass out wheezes. comment if you want to! Either way, i hopey'allenjoyed reading! and my space button also seems to not be working too well omg lkjasf

“Rush! Mr. David! Come quick—the Tracking Remnant is…!”

The call of Irina’s voice piques the interest of both the aforementioned characters and hastily they come from their discussion on the far side of the throne room, immediately followed by Athlum’s four generals. So soon after coming back from Koenigsdorf, Rush is surprised that there’s _already_ activity on the tracker considering the magnitude of the remnant that Duke Hermeien had under his power. Still, he supposes he shouldn’t be _too_ shocked—this is the _Conqueror_ after all and he seems to have _many_ tricks up his sleeves.

Gathering now along with the other’s around the blurry map presented by the Tracking Remnant, he does not even have to _squint_ to see what exactly had Irina looking down in obvious worry.

“Why… that’s _impossible_. How could there _be_ so many Remnants in one place…?” The Marquis remarks with clear shock. Indeed, upon the image before them, there seems to be a _heaving_ mass of lights; made up of many colours, the sparks seem to clash and _collide_ with one another in their effort to stay in one small spot and out of the corner of Rush’s eyes, he sees Torgal shake his head in confusion.

“It seems as if the Remnants are connected to one place. Or… perhaps one person.” The Sovani says, and he shifts in discomfort.

“It is far too close to Elysion to be comfortable.” Pagus comments. “However, it does not seem to be moving towards them. It is possible it is a neutral force, though I cannot say for sure.”

For whatever reason, Rush felt oddly… _panicked_. As soon as he had set eyes on the phenomenon, _anxiety_ readily grips his heart yet he dismisses it with ease. After all, the _others_ must be feeling the same thing, _surely_. The thought of something—or some _one_ —wielding _that_ many Remnants could not be good news. There is a tingle on the back of his neck, but he ignores it in favour of looking to David, whose own brows are pulled together in consternation. “Y’think it’s the Conqueror?” He asks, and subsequently attempts to wrack his brain for _any_ explanation towards this.

“This could be a far bigger problem than the Remnant we encountered at Koenigsdorf if the origin of these Remnants is indeed to be considered an enemy.” David’s voice is grim, and Rush feels himself sobering up. This _spooked_ him, but he’s sure it stresses the other out far more than he can even think of. “If this is the work of the Conqueror… then I fear we have quite a battle on our hands.” He sounds weary and _grave_ and Rush certainly doesn’t like seeing that on _anyone_.

A grin crossing light features, the young Sykes slings an arm around the Marquis, pulling him close as he claps him on the chest with his other hand. “Lighten up, Dave! I’m sure it’ll be fine—‘sides, if we beat all those guys around Koenigsdorf and Hermeien, we can handle this new guy alright!”

The reaction isn’t one he expects. Almost immediately, the Marquis shrugs off Rush’s arm and steps back as if to distance himself. “We… _I_ have still failed at that battle. The Conqueror…” He looks away.

“Mr. David!” And now Irina is there, approaching with her hands held to her chest, _almost_ reaching for the blond but she seems to restrain herself from comforting him. “Please… don’t give up. Not now! Not after how long we’ve fought.” She turns to the Tracking Remnant, and Rush wonders at the odd deflation in his chest. “Whatever this gathering of Remnants is… we have to find out. The Conqueror will be sure to go after it next once he’s done with his goals in Darken Forest! We have to beat him!” When the Marquis doesn’t answer, dark, _pleading_ hues turn to him once more. “Mr. David…”

Finally, _finally_ there is a light shown within deep hazels. As if coming back to life, David smiles softly at the youngest Sykes, and Rush feels that dark _gnawing_ feeling in his gut grow a little stronger now. Still, he’s happy that the Marquis is out of his stump, and it seems as if they finally have _some_ game plan.

“You are right, Irina.” The Marquis closes his eyes as if to compose himself, and when he opens them, there is _fire_ within them. “I apologize. You have a sound plan.” Straightening, he glances towards his generals and they stand immediately at attention. “You are all to prepare to head out again! Wherever these Remnants are going, we are to intercept them as soon as possible.”

At once, the four Generals clap their fists to their hearts. “Yes, My Lord!”

Crossing his arms, Rush is unaware wholly of the sour expression he now has on. Glancing to the side, he’s eager to get rid of this gnawing feeling at the pit of his stomach; heck, he’s not even sure where exactly it came from! Just seeing David and Irina like that…

Why is he feeling this way?

Just when he thought that things would carry on just like _that_ , David approaches him with a neutral expression upon tan features. A hand rises to rest upon Rush’s shoulder, and there’s an odd _relief_ spreading within him at the sight of a smile crossing the Marquis’ features. “Thank you, Rush.”

And Rush doesn’t entirely care what the other is thanking him _for_ exactly, but he’s grinning _back_ and reaching up to cover the other’s hand with his own upon his shoulder.

“No problem, Dave!”

* * *

From the moment he wakes, Rush finds he is strangely _tired_.

It is not because of any lack of sleep, no—he’s sure he fell to slumber surprisingly _early_ the night before since David had ordered them all to get a good rest so that they can head out early in the morning. Which is… _unlike_ him. Normally, they set out as soon as, but assurance from Marina that the crowd of Remnants does not seem to be moving set David on this decision. Even so, Rush felt like he got up earlier than the others, and _that_ was saying something. Normally, _he_ was the one to sleep in but as soon as he opens his eyes, he finds he cannot will himself back to sleep.

He gets dressed fast, and takes one look outside the window. Not exactly light _just_ yet, which meant he still had some time to sort out these strange feelings still lurking in his chest. He’d thought they’d go away by now yet they still _persisted_ , and perhaps are even _stronger_ than before. He isn’t exactly sure of the origin but…

Quietly, he moves from his room to the end of the hall, passing outside and through the gardens and back into the throne room. The doors were closed at this hour, but he easily slips in, moving almost _ghost-like_ towards the Tracking Remnant. As soon as it is activated, he rests his hands upon the edges, staring intently at the large, multi-coloured dot upon the map. Strange. It doesn’t seem to have moved from it’s last known location, but he knows that he probably shouldn’t doubt his mother on her words.

Yet even as he stares more at it, the more _urgency_ he felt, as if he has to go there straight away but there also is a _fear_ lingering in him, fear that if he went there, then things wouldn’t go as smoothly as he hopes.

“Hn--!”

A grunt is _forced_ out of him suddenly and he gasps aloud, eyes widening as his knees weaken and he feels himself _stumble_ against the Tracking Remnant, as if the energy had been sapped from him so _suddenly_ and he feels so _drained_ , so _weak_ that he decides to stay there for a moment longer, so as to ground himself but he cannot stop _staring_ at the blurred map, the prominent _group_ of Remnants and--?

“Rush?”

The voice is _familiar_ but he does not place it at first, so _drawn_ to the peculiar dot.

“I’m…” His tone is strangely low and for a moment, he’s unaware of it, unaware of _anything_ for his thoughts are sent into a whirlwind of _images_ , voices and _sounds_ and he’s _shaking_ ; he isn’t sure _when_ that started happening but he’s shaking and are there _murmurs_ spilling from his lips? Jumbled and _strange_ and _almost_ non-sensible, and he _almost_ laughs because that’s _like_ him, right? And perhaps there is a _chuckle_ there somewhere, thrown within the cacophony and he feels himself tossed _adrift_ , as if everything is fragmented and _strange_ and--!

( _come, little remnant! little **warden**. stop once, stop **twice**? NO. NO NO NO NO NO **NONONONO**_ )

“You want... _that_?” His voice is _curious_ almost, lilted and _strange_ but suddenly— _finally_ there is an intrusion. Someone is gripping him and _shaking_ him by the shoulders and calling and he can vaguely register that he is _glowing_ , that this _light_ around him is growing in _intensity_ and it is _abnormal_ , he is _sure_ and—how long has David been shaking… him like… this?

“Wh-what?! Hey—Dave! Dave!” He yells all of a sudden, _life_ coming back to him and he’s _almost_ unaware of what had happened. It felt like a dream and his memory is _hazy_ but there was something _crucial_ in that moment that he’d forgotten, something _important_. All the same, his eyes are wide and _confused_ ; the light emanating from his figure is gone and he registers the _worry_ within the other’s own hues, the _desperation_ and he’s uncertain of what exactly the other has seen, what exactly has _transpired_ in it’s entirety.

“Rush?!” All at once, David stops his motions and _now_ the young Sykes can see the naked _panic_ upon tan features and he wishes he really _hadn’t_ because what he’d been doing wasn’t _that_ scary, was it? What even _was_ he doing in the first place? “You’re back?” An _odd_ choice of words, but there is relief upon the Marquis’ face. He also notices the tight grip has not gone away either.

As if realising the maintained connection, David slowly releases him, and those features are composed once more though the worry is still _clear_ in his face. “You… you worried me.” He tells Rush quietly. He steps back, and glances towards the Tracking Remnant. “What were you doing here?”

Rush grimaces. He isn’t exactly _sure_ of the reason, but he can’t exactly leave the Marquis empty-handed either. “I… I was curious.” He says lamely; it _is_ partly true, though.

David looks at him. “What’s wrong?”

A sigh escapes Rush’s lips before he manages to stand—albeit _shakily_ and he notes how the other shifts as if ready to catch him at any given moment—now finally letting go of the Tracking Remnant. Before he can answer, however, the Marquis approaches once more and grasps him gently by the forearm. “Away from there, Rush. I do not want… anything else strange happening to you.” He says quietly, and Rush thinks he imagines the catch in his voice but all the same, he doesn’t protest to the other’s wish. He doesn’t think he can really _handle_ another episode like that. Neither could the Marquis as well, it seems.

Settled now in the castle garden, David finally lets go of him before turning to Rush. There is a silent query within those eyes and the young Sykes gives a half-hearted shrug, not entirely sure what to _say_ but he’s sure the other expects an answer nonetheless. “I just… the thought of that new thing is giving me the heebie jeebies.” He’s about to say _more_ before there is a twitch upon the Marquis’ lips that does not go undetected. “What? What is it?”

A short laugh escapes David before he hurriedly collects himself, a hand quickly rising to cover his mouth. “My apologies, Rush. I was merely amused at your choice of terminology. Please, continue.”

A smirk manages to quirk his lips for a brief moment because _that_ of all things had gotten then other to smile… huh. “If you say so.” Though, there really isn’t anything _else_ to say. The smirk fades from his face, as does the other’s smile. “I don’t wanna sound like _I’m_ the only one feeling like this. I mean, you guys as well are getting chills from it, right?”

“Perhaps.” The Marquis responds in a contemplative tone. He starts moving then, past Rush towards the centre of the garden to stare at the flowers. Both hands laced behind his back, he speaks up once more. “However, what happened back there is not something we can attest to happening to us. Please, what did you see, Rush? What exactly happened?”

He shuffles at first from slight discomfit, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He isn’t even sure how to even _explain_ what had happened, only that it _did_. “When I was looking at it, it felt like I was being drawn in. I dunno how to explain it.” Eyes cast down, he wonders what exactly is going through the Marquis’ mind. “I’m really sorry, Dave. For worrying you like that, I mean.” He shakes his head, and lifts dark hues to meet the other’s own once more. However, what he’s greeted with is, of course, a completely composed expression. Yet, he can _tell_ the Marquis is worrying—it’s just in his nature! And of course, Rush moves forward immediately, a reassuring smile upon his face as he pats David upon the shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Dave. ‘M sure it’s nothing.” When it does nothing to lift the Marquis’ mood—indeed, the stare seems to get even _more_ intense—, he grabs the other by the forearm, much like he did to Rush beforehand, and starts moving along the garden. It’s nearing dawn, and he imagines the others are not too far from waking up now. “Daaaave~? You in there? We still gotta get ready!” He hopes the sudden anxiety hadn’t shown in his tone. He really doesn’t want this hanging over David’s head.

There is relief when the other finally responds. “Yes. Of course. Thank you, Rush.” The response is grateful but there is still something _monotone_ underlying his words. Dark brows draw together briefly on the young Syke’s face, but he tugs him along all the same, glad he got something out of the other at _all_.

“Be careful, Rush.” He almost doesn’t hear the next words from David, but he nods in response, flashing a grin back at him.

“As long as you are, Dave.”


	3. dhá

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ack, my writing muse feels a little weird orz it's been a while since i've written fanfiction. still, i hope this doesn't seem /too/ off. enjoy, all the same!

“Rush?”

The male in question turns to the call and smiles immediately upon realising it is his sister. Moving closer among the entirety of their entourage (and it is _large_ ; they travel in more of a disorganized clump right now than David and his generals, already within some sort of formation despite the sanguinity of their travelling so far) he gives a questioning look towards her. “What’s up, sis?”

“What do you think of those lights? The ones… we’re visiting now?” Is it just Rush, or is Irina sounding a little… _wary_? But then, she has every _right_ to be yet it felt as if _some_ of that wariness is directed towards him. Still, he has to wonder at her choice of wording—she made it seem like they were going on a leisurely stroll rather than on a race against time to beat the Conqueror.

“I dunno.” He says, and he wracks his brains for something _else_ to tell her because she’s probably expecting more than _that_ if she’s asked him such a question. “I have a feeling it’s threatening, though. I can’t really think of it any other way.” What he _felt_ earlier this morning is not something to be brushed off so easily—even now, he can recall bits and pieces (heck, _David_ probably can remember it far better than him) and though he wasn’t seriously _harmed_ he still felt… _drained_. It’s unnatural, and he can only hope that was some sort of fluke with the Tracking Remnant. Perhaps he had accidentally asserted power with it when looking at that particular group of Remnants?

Irina makes a small hum of doubt. “I guess…”

“You have something in mind?”

“The presence feels… familiar.” She glances towards him, and he has to wonder what that look means. “Like…”

“Forward, men! The Lindblum is upon us!”

And of _course_ , she is sorely interrupted by the warning shout of David. Perhaps it is with good reason, but Rush wishes he could have heard the second part.

“Rush!” That’s his queue; whatever the situation, it is _always_ necessary to gain the upper hand with an enemy and so in response to David’s call, there is a flux of _power_ within him, his Talisman glowing _brightly_ and he’s _ready_ to use his Timeshift ability; even now, he can see the telltale signs of the enemy slowing down, those great wings _faltering_ —

_… What?_

It’s as if time has slowed down _incredibly_ and it is not of his doing at _all_. He sees David’s union go forth at the utilization of his ability and even the _rest_ of them advancing but gradually, they slow to a stop. Even the Lindblum itself does not move, and there is not a single breeze in the wind.

No, it is not as if there is any _wind_. The entirety of _time_ has stopped.

He thinks, at first, that perhaps he’s used too _much_ of his Timeshift ability, and he moves among the frozen figures of his friends, uncertain and _wary_ at this new environment. Jogging over to the closest person—Nora—he waves a hand in front of her face for _any_ kind of reaction, any _movement_.

He begins to panic.

And it does not help that something is _moving_. Or perhaps, some _one_. At first, he thinks that maybe one of his friends have broken free of the spell but upon realizing that the figure is unfamiliar, he draws his sword. Currently, the rest of them are useless in the face of this new adversary. All of them kept captive under time, he feels _anxious_ that he would not be able to protect them from this threat. Even now, the shadowed figure approaches and how strange, how _ethereal_ it seems. It is tall in height, and there is such a _tattered_ dark cloak covering it’s body. Rush swallows hard; it… _they_ hardly seemed human. Even the feel of him or _her_ felt off, enough to make his skin _crawl_ with distaste yet also… _familiarity_.

“I … ( _feel_ ) you.”

The _tone_ is one that _echoes_ and **_echoes_** ; unreal in _nature_ and it is as if there are _several_ voices speaking from one mouth. It is a voice he does not recognize and for a moment, he considers approaching. The hood that the figure wears conceals his features, but at the very least Rush can tell it is a guy. _Older_ as well, but that _voice_ … he catches a glimpse of something _glowing_ within that hood; something that can be considered as _eyes_ and that green light is wholly _familiar_ —

( **_A W A K E N_** )

“Wha--?!” He jumps in alarm when the man vanishes. Looking around wildly, it takes him a moment to realize that time is _moving_ again and he’s almost bowled over by a fast-moving Blocter who tumbles over _him_ in turn and they _both_ go down with a yell.

“Whatdya doin’, Rush?!” The yama’s yelling with surprise and Rush flails for a moment before he feels the other pull him up bodily and he shakes his head in the process, attempting to clear the strangeness of such a moment in time.

“Woah—thanks, man!” He grins at Blocter but almost wishes he _hadn’t_ because the big guy pats (more like _bashes_ ) him on the back comfortingly (which almost makes him tip forward once _again_ ) before charging into battle with the rest of his union. Raising a hand to his forehead, he has to re-orientate himself with the situation once more. Right—so about that _Lindblum_ …

“What’re ya up to, _punk_? Not zonin’ out on the battle, are ya?” Nora’s voice echoes from behind him imperiously and he has to straighten automatically, a sheepish smile upon his face now. The rest of his union gather behind her, and he has to firmly give himself a mental slap. Right. He can’t let his team _down_ at this moment. _Later_ , he’ll mull over what had happened—if he ever _got_ a later to himself, that is.

“Sorry, sorry!” He calls out, and fist pumps the air whilst drawing out his sword with his other hand. “Alright, troops! Let’s kick some A!”

And he _almost_ doesn’t notice Irina staring at the exact spot the strange figure had been.

* * *

 

As it turns out, the Lindblum wasn’t _that_ powerful. The only reason they _had_ a few close calls is because of _Rush_. And perhaps even Blocter. But _only_ because they began to engage in a _friendly_ competition on how well they could dodge the monster’s attacks. _More_ than a little foolish, as both David and Torgal points out but the fact that no one got harmed is evidence enough that they can muck around a little.

“As much fun as _playing around with a monster_ may be, this is not the time to be fooling around.” David’s tone is stern the moment the Lindblum is vanquished ( _unfortunate_ , because Rush is sure they could’ve fetched an _awesome_ price if it were captured alive) and he sheathes his sword, giving a hard stare to Blocter first before it transfers to the young Sykes. “Please, let us get this over with.” He remarks. Emmy alternates her gaze between both Rush and him, her gaze unreadable yet seemingly gone unnoticed by the Marquis.

“Oh, gee.” Blocter covers his face with his hands and his tail swishes sullenly. “I’m sorry, young master.”

On the other hand, Rush feels like he just witnessed a puppy being kicked. He has half a mind to try and snap David out of it, but there is a warning glance from Torgal and he decides to relent. A hand lifts to rub at the nape of his neck and his gaze averts down. “Sorry, Dave.”

“It is quite alright, so long as it does not happen again.” David remarks and Rush cannot read his expression. All the same, the Marquis turns and starts to move off once more. The rest of the generals follow him slowly—as does the rest of their unions—but Rush is surprised to see Emmy linger back, beckoning him with a hand.

“My lord is worried, I suspect.” She says to Rush, and he figures as much, eyes trained upon David’s back and he notes how _tense_ those shoulders are, how _guarded_ the male is when he usually _isn’t_ when surrounded by the people he cares for. It is only when matters arise that such a front goes back up, but he knows that David wouldn’t have _normally_ told them off for their antics. Indeed, he expected _Torgal_ to instead. “I’m sure he’ll be back to normal once our side-trip is finished.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he will be too.” He responds, and returns the small smile she gives him before she departs once more, catching up with David and the rest of his entourage up the front. Staring after her, he’s unsure of what to think right now. On one hand, he wants to pull the Marquis aside and tell him what just happened when he Timeshifted, but on the other…

Well, David seems to have enough on his mind already—Rush doesn’t want to _add_ to that. No, perhaps it’s best he kept it to himself for now.

“Rush? What did… that man say to you?”

Or not.

He half turns towards his sister. She walks beside him now, and he can tell she’s… _worried_ by the way she holds her hands to her chest. He doesn’t _blame_ her though, for if she really did see what had happened, then…

“Wait, you weren’t frozen…?” Rush pauses in his gait and she stops with him; delicate features are drawn in apprehension but her jaw is set in a stubborn line. He imagines she won’t take any answer that _isn’t_ the truth but he notices the others stopping to look back at them and the curious stares still his tongue. He’s not entirely sure how his face must’ve looked then, but it seems to be enough cause for concern because David starts to approach, a query already upon his lips. “We’ll talk about it later, alright, sis?” There’s a warm smile upon his lips but Irina seems reassured by it, nodding in agreement as she too notices the Marquis’ approach.

“Is there something the matter?” Hazel eyes are fixated upon them both and there is a no-nonsense tone underlying his words. For a moment, Rush considers pulling _both_ of them aside but now, up _close_ he can see how tired David is, the _bags_ steadily developing under his eyes and there is a certain _weariness_ cloaking his figure. Had Rush simply not noticed it, too consumed with his own goals? All the same, he is _concerned_ for the other, and doesn’t wish to burden the male with any more things that he needs to worry about.

And so, a grin settles upon his features and he strides forward, meeting the Marquis halfway as he slings an arm around his neck, marching him back _right_ the way he came. David staggers slightly at the sudden action taken but he manages to orient himself the _right_ way, a vaguely annoyed look upon his face. “What do you think you’re _doing_ \--?”

“Just moving along, Dave. Isn’t that what you said to do?” He claims, nudging the other forward insistently; ahead, the Generals collectively sigh before moving on themselves. Rush can only hope that David won’t protest and pursue the matter, but it seems his current worries are for naught.

“I suppose.” The Marquis says simply, before glancing at the arm Rush still held around him. Feeling vaguely embarrassed at the prolonged contact (which is a _first_ , he admits) he lets go, doing an awkward spin (to which David cocks a brow at; there is no telling the _incredulity_ within such a gaze, nor the slight amusement) so as to detach himself before slowing down enough to walk once more with Irina.

He will have reignited the conversation between them, but things felt… _tense_ now, despite everything. The air felt _odd_ between them all, and he decides to remain quiet until they reach their destination. It seems as if the rest of the group reach the same conclusion, and they march in silence.

* * *

 

_Did it all feel like a dream?_

He sleepily answers the croon with a soft thought. _Kinda_ …

_Then perhaps you should sleep._

* * *

 

He wakes, but he doesn’t think he _has_. Not _really_.

There is the throne room before him again, yet sitting in the chair is one that he does not recognize. Indeed, it _should_ be David sitting there, calm and perhaps even _expectant_ but now… _now_ there is a far _older_ individual there, someone who _looks_ like the Marquis yet... he is taller and _leaner_ , wearing _fully_ red and black, the colours of _Athlum_ and blonde hair that had only _just barely_ touched his chin has grown half an inch past his shoulders yet still carrying the layered effect it had when he was younger.

Before he realises it, Rush is moving forward.

And his strides are _longer_ somehow. He glances towards the ground and it is further than he is used to; his body feels strangely _heavy_ and now— _now_ it seems as if he is looking through a light green filter and it is _flickering_ , on and off before disappearing completely. It is _dark_ without such a filter, but he still manages to see through… _whoever’s_ eyes he sees through.

Gradually, his senses register. Or perhaps, not _all_ of them. There is rough material covering his body, and it takes a moment to realise what he’s _wearing_. Similar to perhaps what the _Conqueror_ wears, both in design and _make_ , but the colour is instead a deep emerald, laced with black. There is a spike of apprehension upon realizing such a fact for the implications aren’t really _ace_ at all.

 This is a dream and yet this feels incredibly _real_. Save the whole unable-to-control-the-body thing which is _expected_ , he supposes. The fact that he _clearly_ (hopefully?) is not himself, though? _Not_ expected.

And, despite everything that is currently going on, he cannot get over how… incredibly _hot_ David is.

…If that _is_ him.

And Rush wonders why _that_ kind of thinking is even entering his _system_ at a time like this but—

 _He really, **really** looks--_!

He suddenly wishes he could just stop life for a moment and just _stare_ for a bit… not that he isn’t doing it shamelessly _now_ but—

More staring.

Just… _damn_.

Apparently, inhibitions and secret desires _really_ let loose in dreams as well.

( -- _beautiful soul, grandiose and calming and **sweet** \-- _)

Finally, there is _sound_.

( _\--you like him; **prefer** him? a mere **mitra**?_ )

… _What?_

Rush stills his thoughts despite how _wild_ they are right now, fearing that if he thinks too _loudly_ then it would disrupt the hushed voices, the ability to _perceive_ them at all.

( -- _love **him**_ \-- )

David’s head lifts, and Rush feels frozen to the spot. Apparently, the person who’s point of view he sees this from feels the same way, for the footsteps halt upon dark eyes connecting with his own.

“Are you well?”

( -- ** _l o v e ?_** )

His voice is as accented as he remembers yet a little _deeper_ than Rush is used to. Inwardly, he wonders why _that_ is asked, of _all_ the questions but the context is something he is bereft of. Something along the lines of ‘why are you dressed like the Conqueror?’ or maybe ‘the year is currently ____’ could be helpfully said so as to gain _some_ information but of course, dreams are ever so _vague_. There is a shift from his dream-self, and his vision averts to the side before fixating upon the Marquis once more.

“Are you, Dave?” The response is unfamiliar, but _no one_ calls David that except… _himself_. Really, this shouldn’t be surprising at _all_ yet… it is strange, how dreams can dampen _any_ kind of emotion within the sleeper.

Except, perhaps, _terror_.

 _No_.

Darkness envelopes him once more.


	4. trí

He wakes to a frozen world once more.

Blinking blearily, he doesn’t really suspect _anything_ at first. There is a dream he has just woken from that he cannot _entirely_ remember yet he feels a sense of _urgency_ about it, as if it had been terribly _important_ but no matter how much he wracks his brains, the truth of such a dream still _dances_ from his mental grasp. Sighing in slight aggravation, he gives up, staring at the coarse material above him.

It’s only when he turns on his side and sees that Irina isn’t _breathing_ that he begins to notice.

He jumps up straight away, the blankets falling away from him easily as he scrambles to his sister’s side, worry etched in every _part_ of his face as he attempts to rouse her, hand hovering over then shaking her shoulder. “Irina? Irina?!” He’s close to calling for help, shifting closer to move her on her side but—

( -- _sleeping slee…ping… slum…ber…ing_ \-- )

He jerks back at the unfamiliar—yet, he has _heard_ this before—tone and looks around wildly, trying to discern the exact _origin_ but there’s no one else around. Only Rush and Irina shared this tent whilst the others were divided into their own groups (which was an _uncommon_ occurrence; normally, the males and females were _separated_ but Irina, this time, seemed _insistent_ that they stay together). However, there _should_ be a few watchmen outside, especially Torgal since he liked to take the first watch during night.

Getting up, he decides to get some help.

The aforementioned general shouldn’t be _too_ far away; if Rush is remembering it correctly, he _always_ stood outside David’s tent. Not unlike him, and _unsurprising_ , considering he’s been looking after the Marquis since he was a _child_ , after all.

But then, even when Rush gets _out_ of his own tent, he notices something strange. The torch a guard is holding up…the _flames_ themselves were not moving. And neither does it seem that this particular guard has _noticed_ Rush come out of his tent at all; the general _stillness_ of the world catches his attention now, and the motionless Irina now finally makes sense.

_Again?!_

The fact that this is even happening is _strange_ —Rush hasn’t even _tried_ to use Timeshift nor were they in battle. But then, maybe it is _dumb_ to assume that it only happened in those conditions. Unfortunately, however, it also meant that strange _man_ is visiting and that doesn’t reassure Rush _at all_.

Urgency rising within him, he makes a mental checklist. First and foremost, Irina seems safe. Second, he’ll have to check on David. He wasn’t sure _where_ the mystery man was, but he couldn’t take chances with him if he’s able to freeze the whole of the _world_ except himself. And Rush. Of course, _that_ part doesn’t make any sense, but it’s not like he’s gonna question it at all.

Still, that doesn’t dampen the dread forming within the young Syke’s gut.

He moves quickly, _alarmed_ that he doesn’t see the strange figure right away. Before, he came straight _to_ Rush and while there may be a chance he hasn’t come at all, Rush doesn’t want to take it. No, he has to ensure the others’ safety and he’d be _damned_ if he let _any_ of them get hurt, not when he can do something _about_ it.

The fear only heightens when he sees the flap to David’s tent open.

“Dave!” The yell is ripped out of his throat in sheer _worry_ and he’s darting forward, passing a motionless Torgal before he busts into the tent (more like _stumbles_ , his foot _just_ catching on the material), grasping his sword just in _case_ and--!

His heart stops. Or, at least, he _thinks_ it does for the scene in front of him is not something he _expects_. The strange figure is _there_ , kneeling next to David’s prone form and he’s… _caressing David’s cheek?_ There is a certain _reverence_ seen in such a touch, the softest _hum_ echoing from the depths of that hood but Rush doesn’t want to watch. He doesn’t even want to _know_ what the apparition is even _thinking_. Rush’s teeth bares then, still _wary_ and it is without a moment’s hesitation that he charges forward, a _cry_ upon his lips—

“ _Don’t **touch** him!!_ ”

And he’s _already_ slashing _down_ , attempting to try and drive the figure _away_ , perhaps _scare_ him off because there is a _fury_ now ignited within Rush, a strange type of _rage_ that anyone would even _touch_ David like that and, oh, he wants this adversary to _leave_. _Right **now**_ —

Perhaps, later, he’ll look back on this moment. Later, he’ll wonder why he gets so _incensed_ at such a sight because it was not like David was being _harmed_ by the stranger. No, Rush should be _grateful_ that no bodily harm had come to him and should have instead inquired as to _why_ he was there in the first place, why he found it necessary to _stalk_ both Rush and David and what _exactly_ brought about his _familiar_ time-stopping abilities. S _till_ , no one should be _allowed_ to do that, to even touch David like _that_ especially, no one should _dare_ because… _because_ …

The figure vanishes.

_Hey--!_

Time starts moving.

“Oh, _crap_ \--!”

The momentum of his sword is pulling it forward, down _toward_ David and there is _panic_ lacing down his system because in his haste to protect him, he might accidentally be the one to _hurt_ him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees eyes snap _open_ from their slumber from his _own_ loud cry and they widen _considerably_ upon witnessing keen metal come _far_ too close to his face—

A groggy yell. “ _Rush--?!”_

In a smooth motion, David manages to roll out from under the oncoming blow but at the same time, Rush halts his own attack by shifting his weight and ultimately _throwing away_ the sword so as to divert it from David. The metal clangs against the ground loudly enough to attract attention from outside and _there_ Torgal is immediately, all four swords drawn and Rush whips around to just _gawk_ at the suddenness of _everything_ right now and he cannot even manage to think up a single _excuse_ for—

“My Lord! Are you unharmed?” For a moment, Rush thinks the General would immediately go to David’s side but instead there is a side glance given. At first, it’s _odd_ but then the reason occurs to him and his features turn _affronted_ now for Torgal isn’t letting up on his defence at _all_ right now; indeed, he only seems to get warier by the _second_ , his swords raising _at_ Rush as if expecting some kinda _attack_ from him. Though his actions are _questionable_ , he still feels offended that the others would immediately _jump_ to such a conclusion.

“I am well, Torgal.” There is a grimace upon David’s face, and in the torchlight he seems _far_ more tired than initially perceived. Mostly, maybe, because Rush has interrupted a well-deserved _nap_ but that’s beside the point. Did he really have to be held at swordpoint?! Before he can even speak, he’s shut up by the distinctly _cold_ look David shoots towards him, and for a moment Rush thinks that he’s _beyond_ mad for him attacking him in his sleep.

At worst, it seems like an attempted assassination.

“I believe he may be enthralled.” David continues, and dusts off his clothes. His gaze does not stray from Rush, and there’s an emotion within those hues that the young Sykes cannot entirely pinpoint. Still, that’s not currently his _top_ concern right now.

“Wait, wait! Dave!” Rush stands and Torgal tenses at the sudden movements. “I’m fine! See? Good and dandy! Pleasedon’tkillme.” He swallows hard, for there are rather _brutal_ consequences for falling under enchantment by the enemy. Nora had suggested it, considering how _hard_ the battle against The Gates of Hell had been, and though it was _risky_ it _worked_.

All the same, Rush wishes there was some sort of _recovery_ art designed to cure _that_ particular ailment.

However, it turns out he doesn’t have _too_ much to fear. The moment he moved into the radius of the torchlight, Torgal and David relaxed _immensely_. A quick glance back told Rush that perhaps the majority of his features were covered in shadow, enough to be _freaky_ , at the very least. Torgal sheathes his swords, glancing towards David. A nod, and the Sovani moves out of the tent once more to give privacy for, Rush _imagines_ , some questioning.

He expects the queries to come straight away, but as he waits for David to speak, the Marquis moves past him and Rush turns with him, a brow arched. The blond bends down, grasping the hilt of Rush’s sword before straightening once more; he turns to Rush, and instead of offering the weapon he instead sheathes it for the Sykes. His hand lingers there and Rush is at a loss of what to _say_ exactly for the silence is turning more than a little _awkward_ now but before he can finally decide to _do_ something, the Marquis smoothly steps back, gaze connecting with his own.

“So what possessed you to strike at me, if not enthrallment, Rush?” The tone is as neutral as always, but he doesn’t sound _mad_ , he sounds… c _ontemplative_.

Rush raises his hands as if surrendering and in a way he _is_. “It’s not what you think, Dave. I just, mm—“ He _yawns_ then, one hand lifting to his mouth as if to cover it whilst his free arm goes to the side to stretch; he hopes it isn’t too obvious that it was _fake_. “Y’know, I think I’ll head to bed. We can talk ‘bout this in the morning, right?”

Apparently, he isn’t as crafty as he thinks he is. By the blatantly _unimpressed_ look upon the Marquis’ face, Rush guesses he’s already seen through the lie with ease. “Rush.” He starts, and his voice is _flat_ now, losing that light, thoughtful tone and Rush wishes he can have that _back_ , if only to avoid the agitation _swirling_ within those eyes. “You are not tired, Rush. I can tell when someone is lying to me.” When Rush’s face visibly deflates (ah, such a _sinking_ feeling in the pit of his stomach once more), the Marquis seems to soften. “Please, tell me what’s going on. If it is beneficial for me to know, or perhaps to aid our quest somehow, then just tell me.”

Rush debates for a full thirty seconds, in which David does not, as Rush expects, get steadily more and more impatient; no, his features remain neutral and _supportive_ , silent and _stalwart_ in nature and, well, he can’t really say _no_ despite how much he _does_ wish to keep it to himself for the sake of not putting _too_ much on David’s plate. Still, the strange occurrences with the stranger had only started happening when they began investigating that group of lights upon the Tracking Remnant and if they were related in any way, then perhaps it _is_ best that he informs David of the going-ons.

“It… it started when we encountered the Lindblum…” He starts, and continues on to tell him _everything_. Every tiny little detail and the Marquis listens _intently_ , dark hues fixated on Rush’s face and the young Sykes cannot bring himself to look at him straight in the eye the whole time. Instead, he uses grand gestures to illustrate his points, occasionally looking _away_ from him and there is absolutely _no_ reaction from David, features still and quite _perfect_ in their impassivity. It takes a _long_ while, and throughout the storytelling, there is the slightest _sway_ in David’s form. More than likely he’s _tired_ and Rush wishes he could have been a little more forceful in the withholding information part of things. “…Then I bust in here and he’s, well—“ Rush gets to this recent part and he halts abruptly, wondering whether it is wise to depart with such a weirdly… _intimate_ detail but at the Marquis’ face, expectant and _waiting_ , he decides he cannot keep this from him either. “He’s… _touching_ you.”

Immediately, the Marquis’ face becomes appalled and it would’ve been amusing—because this _whole_ time, David’s features did not change one _tiny_ little bit—if not for the current context. “ _What?_ ”

Rush holds up his hands once more, waving it in both their faces in a _clear_ negative action. “N-not in _that_ way! He was… he was a little gentler.” He isn’t sure _what_ words to use exactly but it seems that his attempt at _reassuring_ doesn’t exactly help; indeed, David’s face grows even _more_ offended at the thought. “W-well I mean he was touching your _face_ and _just_ your face! That’s why I was—y’know, waving my sword around before you woke up…”

David looks at him, and Rush cannot imagine he’s seen a face stonier than on the Marquis. There’s an awkward silence for a few moments, with Rush desperately trying to think of something to _say_ to ease the discomfort of the atmosphere and he fidgets without pause, brows drawn together in consternation. However, he needn’t fret for _too_ long. As if coming back to life, David inhales once before nodding. The words that come next stump Rush into next week.

“Thank you, Rush, for telling me _and_ stopping whatever he was up to.” The Marquis says measuredly and Rush has half a mind to ask him whether that’s _all_ he wants to say. However, with the recent revelation he decides not to push it. Still, it seems he didn’t have to wonder—David continues after a moment’s pause, starting to pace now. “I must wonder at the origin of this mysterious being. If he can control time as you have described, then this is a cause for concern. As such…” The Marquis stops and looks at Rush. “Please, be careful. If you’re the only one that is able to resist his power, then I imagine he’ll pin you as a threat. It is lucky that none of us have died by his hand yet, though that may be soon to change.”

“Hey—“ The young Sykes moves forward and an encouraging smile tweaks the edges of his lips. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Dave. I’ll take care of it. You just focus on other things, alright?”

If anything, David looks _more_ stressed and worried. “You would be doing it alone.”

Rush shakes his head, shrugging. “That’s alright. I can take on this guy, no problem!”

“… None of us will be able to help you, Rush.”

A frown now, and it takes a moment to see where David may be coming from. Is this about the events at Koenigsdorf, perhaps? Features harden with a determined smile, and once again he wonders whether telling David about this was indeed the right choice. “It’s alright. I can take care of myself, Dave.” Grinning, he reaches over and squeezes the other’s shoulder, an attempt to be _comforting_ and he hopes it helps. “You should probably go to sleep; y’look like you’re about to fall over!” Nudging the other male, he winks before slipping out of the tent once more, calling out lowly after himself. “Have sweet dreeeeammmsss, Dave~!”

Unnoticed at the side of the tent, Irina’s figure stands shakily.


	5. ceithre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arghh, i feel like i'm deviating from what i planned. orz. this may be edited later at some point lkajsf i still kinda feel iffy. nevertheless, i love talking to my readers so if you feel like it, drop me a line! i'm open to anyone! ;D (especiallysincethefanbaseissosmallwheeze)

* * *

( _little, little |doyoumiss| him this **puny** tiny s o u l--_ )

A hand reaches out, reaches to such _warmth_ in comparison to how _cold_ he has become and ( **_he_** _does not **miss**_ ) _him_ , he is _sure_ of ( _that small tiny **detail** ; what about your duty/life/ **focus**?_ ); there is movement behind him, and he _almost_ ( _you do not MOVE? would you cast such PRECIOUS essence AWAY_ ) but time is ever so ( _SLOW_ ) for him, that he does not need to ( _decisions upon **decisions** are you READY **m h a c**?_ ) nor _think_ right now. He can caress this ( **_moments_** _are FOREVER in our WORLD here ; what is **hurrying** when we are **ETERNAL?**_ ), can treasure it for there is ( **_POWER_** _THAT YOU ARE **NOT** ; **R I D D L E D** WITH **~~MITRA~~** EMOTIONS_ ) lacing his very _veins_ but he knows he cannot delay his ( end is F O R E V E R, forever can be **_SEEN_** _, CAN BE **grasped** by U S_ ) and so there is a _shift_ of his will and he is—

( running, little WARDEN--)

“Shut up.”

Rush wakes sweating, and he cannot remember what he has dreamed of.

* * *

 

“Here we are.” Pagus’ voice echoes through the air and Rush is glad that it is plain daylight. Ever since the last two incidents, he’s been on edge the past few days of _when_ that strange being would come into play again ( _especially_ at night, for it is _hard_ to discern between the darkness and the stranger’s cloak) yet he’s been lucky so far. It has not appeared, and for _that_ he is grateful.

All the same, he can only hope that the one that has been stalking them the past week is not the same one as the remnants they spotted on the Tracking Remnant. Now _that_ would be a _cruel_ twist of fate.

Yet as luck would have it, fate really _is_ cruel.

Initially, they had _no_ idea what they’re supposed to be looking for, and with only David, his Generals, and Irina and Rush present (with the rest ordered to set up camp elsewhere), it would be hard to _miss_ something. Overlooking the Holy Plains, there is nothing _unusual_ in sight (it is a _vast_ plain, with _hardly_ any landmarks and so _anything_ would be able to be spotted with _ease_ ) when there _should_ be something, considering how _palpable_ that pulsing light was upon the blurry map. If anything, _that_ amount of remnants should not be _hard_ to find. Even Irina, who has the _natural_ talent of finding them, is having a hard time herself and in the end, David’s face scrunches in pure consternation.

“Are you sure the location was _exactly_ here, at the Holy Plains?” David asks after a few minutes. He is still looking out into the plain, so Rush is unsure as to who he is addressing. He opens his mouth to answer, but Torgal beats him to it.

“We all bore witness to it, My Lord. Perhaps we should fan out and search for the cluster of remnants? It is likely that it is smaller than we imagined.”

“Very well.” David turns then, and his gaze sweeps over them. “Rush, Irina: with me. Blocter and Pagus will be together, and Emmy and Torgal will be the last team. Any objections?” When there are none, he nods, and sweeps his arm. “Make sure to find those Remnants, men!” Rush _almost_ points out that Emmy isn’t exactly a _man_ but he supposes that the term must be used in general.

All the same, the Generals salute as one. “Yes, My Lord!”

* * *

 

As the Generals moved off in their pairs, Rush moved forward, staring after them. He half-turns towards the other two, doubt _clear_ upon his features. “Hey, Dave, are you sure that was a good id--?”

“Thank you, Mr. David.” He looks just in time to see Irina bow to the Marquis. “I appreciate your support.”

Rush’s mouth goes dry.

“I hope your plan will work, Irina. It is a risky one.” David responds, looking solemn.

The older Sykes stares for a moment before starting forward, a frown etching itself upon his brow as a dark feeling begins to gnaw at his stomach once more. “Wait, wait, wait—you guys _planned_ this?”

Irina looks towards him and there is a sorrowful gaze upon her face; at any other time, Rush would have relented right there and then. Yet now… the sinking feeling is strangely _strong_. “Rush…”

“My apologies, Rush.” David easily takes charge, stepping in front of Irina ( _oh, how that **burns**_ ). His hands are raised, as if to try and placate him. “Irina came to me last night. There was no time between now and then to inform you privately.”

( _LYING LYING do you **trust** that **boy** \--?!_ )

His head jerks to the side, and he does _wonder_ about the strange _feelings_ , these _voices_ filtering through his mind. Ultimately, he shrugs them off, and attempts to shrug off these ill emotions along with it. “It’s fine.” He says shortly, and moves past them, heading out into the plains fully now. Already, he regrets showing and _feeling_ this moodiness at all but he cannot find it in him to _stop_. Whatever this was—associated with both Irina _and_ David—does not seem to be going away anytime soon. “We should get going—the others might get suspicious.”

“Rush--!” He hears Irina call after him, and he pauses, waiting to hear what she has to say. One second passes. _Two_ seconds— _five_ now and he wonders whether David has stopped her. Uncharacteristically, _irritation_ rises within him and he turns back, features twisted in _annoyance_ and he’s ready to snap at them ( _that’s it ~~young~~ **warden** they do not **deserve** , they are not **WORTHY** \--! _), for _delaying_ both in moving _and_ in conversation but—

He stops in his tracks.

And there, behind him, is the stranger that Rush has been dreading to see.

Vaguely, he notes that the world has gone still yet, the Holy Plain is still in and of _itself_. The only reason why he _knows_ is because of how _motionless_ both Irina and David have become and the sun itself has become _dormant_ in it’s rays; even in the distance, he thinks he sees Blocter in _mid_ - _air_ , strangely enough. Still, his main concern right now is the person before him—before anything else, he has to make sure both David and Irina are _safe_.

“Get away from them!” Rush yells, for the figure is far closer to _both_ of them than to him and _that_ is enough to set him on edge, nerves jittery and _frazzled_ for any wrong move could end _both_ their lives. Quickly, he draws his sword and in his mind, there are Invocations ready to be cast, ready to be _unleashed_ upon the other and—!

“ ** _W_** _( a)it_.”

Voices upon _voices_ are _whisperedSCREAMED **said**_ and almost automatically, Rush stumbles back at the sheer _magnitude_ that command _holds_ , how _powerful_ it is and he feels himself _crumpling_ , his motions _fading_ into submission for the other said to ( WAIT ) and they— _he_ has to ( _obey him OBEY or ~~whither ju~~ st OBEY **O B E Y**_ ) and there is a _shudder_ running down his spine, a trickle of _fear_ spilling down the nape of his neck and he feels _stiff_ , unable to act, to _move_. The power held is _unreal_ and he cannot do _anything_ , can do _nothing_ but ( _OBEYOBEYOBEYOBEY_ ) and he _yells_ then, for he still _wishes_ to move, wishes to _deny_ this command, this _willpower_ for Irina and David are in _danger_ and he’ll be _damned_ —he’ll be DAMNED--!

Slowly— _slowly_ he straightens and he _sees_ the other then, moving towards _Irina_ and he shakes his head in denial, sees a gloved hand reaching out glowing with something _sinister_ and he _yells_ , FORCES himself to MOVE because that’s his _sister_ , that’s his sister and NOTHING will _happen_ to her, he’d SWORN IT—

“ _DON’T HURT HER--!!_ ”

Then—light.

At first, Rush thinks he’s done something. Rush thinks that maybe that strange power that’d flowed _from_ him, from the _Talisman_ back in Nagapur is back and finally, _finally_ he’ll be able to help them, _save_ them but…

The light is blue.

It takes a moment for him to realise that Marion’s Blessing is in play.

Dark hues glance up, take in his _sister_ ; the brilliant sheen of light cobalt and the intricate lines _shimmering_ around her forehead, the incandescent sphere of _light_ around her hands is indicative of her powers and beside her, he can see David slowly move, broken _free_ from the spell that the stranger has cast. A glance to the side tells Rush that not _everything_ has been relieved of the pause in time, else the Generals would have _definitely_ come running at the disturbance.

“Who… _what_ … _are_ you?” Her voice is strained, and Rush quickly scrambles up, stumbling very _slightly_ from the dizziness for there is still a _cacophony_ within his head but it can be put aside for now. Currently, the one he should be concerned about is this _man_. And Irina… she doesn’t seem to be looking too good. Rush hazards a guess that perhaps even her Blessing isn’t enough to keep this guy’s powers at bay.

Which meant that maybe the time for talking can _wait_.

He leaps forward _immediately_ with a cry—he hears a shout from David and perhaps even a cry from Irina, but currently he’s far too _incensed_ with this person to respond, nor _think_ properly. Before he can inflict any sort of damage, the other whirls around to defend and _of course_ , it won’t be _that_ easy. Deadlocking with the male, he can see that despite the light shining down upon their forms, it _still_ isn’t enough to disperse the darkness that dwells so _readily_ within that hood. A snarl rises in his throat, and vaguely, he _questions_ himself on his actions, his thoughts and irrational _anger_ but currently, right _now_ he wishes to make this person _bleed_.

“ _You **threaten** Irina and you touched **Dave**_!” Teeth are _bared_ ferociously and he is not letting the other go anytime soon. No, he has committed wrongs _again_ st his friend and his sister and there _will_ be Hell to pay. “ _I **won’t** let you get away with it!_ ”

Yet despite his resolution, he can _feel_ the difference in strength. While Rush is pushing with all his might against the man, it feels as if his opponent is holding him off with barely any effort at all. His brows furrow, and he notices David and Irina, wary and _hesitant_ in their approach and he wants to yell at them, wants to wonder _exactly_ what they’re doing and why they weren’t—

“ _I **wo** uld **n** ’t _( _h_ ** _a_** _rm_ ) _**t ~~h~~** ~~em~~_.” And there it is again, those layered and _layered_ voices, stacked upon one another and he has to jerk back, has to separate himself because there is that _light_ again, that familiar green _hue_ and it is coalescing more by the second and slowly—ever-so- _slowly_ —, Rush releases the deadlock. Dark hues are wide as he gazes within the darkness of that hood except… except it isn’t so _dark_ anymore.

He drops his sword.

“You…”

The other’s throat is heard being cleared, and Rush _sees_ him, Rush can see the tufts of jet black hair and those _glowing_ green eyes, suffusing with a similar shade of _brown_ and he isn’t _sure_ what to think, isn’t sure what to _say_ , _especially_ with the new addition of what seems to be _glowing tattoos_. His chest heaves in doubt and confusion, and David starts forward, concern clear upon tan features.

“Rush…?” His query is worried and hesitant, but he vaguely registers that the Marquis’ hand is wrapped around the hilt of his blade. Good.

“Why…?” It is the only question that he _can_ ask in light of this new development. The figure merely shakes his head and a hand raises for a forefinger to press against his lips to indicate quietude. Even as this happens, there is _wind_ suddenly, whipping around the figure and how _strange_ , the hood does not come off yet the cloak is tossed around with _ease_ and now— _now_ Rush can see the clothes he’s wearing ( _the same in the **dream**_ ) and his words are caught in his throat.

_Why?_

The figure disappears.

( **_do not_** _oppose the **C o n q u e r o r**_ )

Rush can only stare at the spot that he _himself_ had been standing not ten seconds ago.

When he finally registers Irina and David, ceaselessly shaking and _calling_ him, he can only muster up one thing to say.

“He’s… he’s _me_.”

 _And it looks like I’ve gone to the bad side_.


	6. cúig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know what happened when i was writing this but i like it omfg; also, tis a tiiiny bit rushed but apparently i can't roll any other way u___u  
> also, i think it's worth noting that i may have been subconsciously inspired by [yukiscorpio](http://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiscorpio/pseuds/yukiscorpio)'s fic [Stay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/978367). If you've read that and recognize the wording at the end of this chapter, then you'll probably see what i'm talking about. if you haven't, then i really really recommend that fic and the author bc their work is simply amazing! ;D

Irina—as Rush has somewhat suspected—does not look so surprised. Indeed, it seems as if she has known for quite some time, or at least had a _sure_ inkling as to the identity of the mystery guy.

David, on the other hand, gives the _most_ gobsmacked expression. Or, at least, as much as a Marquis _can_ , which is incidentally only a partially opened mouth and widened eyes but that is enough for Rush to gain _some_ amusement out of it. “How can that _be_?” Rapidly, he gains composure and strides forward, gaze focused upon Rush and the mirth fades in the darker-haired male, only to be replaced by dread once more.

His gaze averts to the ground. “I’m not too sure, Dave, but I know what I saw.”

“If that _is_ you then…” The Marquis’ head shifted slightly, and he half-turns towards Irina. Rush doesn’t even have the energy to even _feel_ that dark gnawing in his being when David puts a query forth to her. “Irina? What did you sense? Was he…?”

She moves forward and she is only looking at Rush. Her expression is grave, and Rush wishes she would stop gazing at him as if he were dying. “I think he’s the one we were looking for.” Her gaze averts to the ground. “There… were so _many_ Remnants in him. I’m not sure how that’s even _possible_ but… _that’s_ why it’s so hard to even _resist_ that much power over time.”

“Remnants?” Rush murmurs and he looks down to his hands. So that explained the strange lines across his counterpart’s face, the _vividness_ of those brilliant green hues and even that _voice,_ seemingly burdened with speaking for _many_. As to how that number of Remnants had gotten into him, well…

 _It makes sense, if I’m a Remnant too_.

“Rush?” David approaches him once more, and his features are nothing less than that of concern. “What are you thinking?”

What is he _supposed_ to say? How is he supposed to even _take_ this? Nothing in this lifetime would have prepared him for this; there is nothing to fall back on, nothing to make sense _of_ when reacting to this very _situation_ and—Rush would have taken fighting the Conqueror right here, and right _now_ over this. Still, the thought of their enemy does not make him feel any better; the last thing … _himself_ said to him was--

He says the first thing that comes to mind, and perhaps that’s all that matters.

“He said not to oppose the Conqueror.”

* * *

 

“You are certain, then, that that was truly Rush you encountered?” Pagus’ voice fills Athlum’s throne room now, and the Qsiti’s features are as grave as the rest of them.

It has been a few days; David had a forced march all the way back to Athlum. They could not afford, he said, to waste time now, not with this matter over their heads. The journey back had been quiet, and Rush was glad it’d been that way. He didn’t think he could handle anything other than his own roiling thoughts. As it is now, he leans against a nearby pillar, not entirely willing to take any part in the discussion, even if it _is_ concerning himself in the distant future.

“We are.” He can hear David reply, and a sigh parts Rush’s lips. What exactly is his future self _thinking_ exactly? “Unfortunately, it seems he is siding with the Conqueror. We should expect no further interactions with him unless absolutely necessary.”

There is silence, as Rush expects. Both Emmy and Blocter glance back at him, shock obvious in their features—also expected.

David looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face? Somewhat expected.

A sudden column of light cascading from the ceiling right in front of Rush, in the middle of the throne room?

 _Not expected at all_.

“Ah--!” There’s a brief yell of fright from Rush as he jumps, trying to back away but of _course_ , there’s the pillar he’d been leaning against, there in the way but before he can try to inch around it so as to give himself _some_ cover from the threat. Worry erupting within him, he glances towards David and the others— _good_. They seem to be unharmed; all of the Generals are already on point with their duty, standing protectively before the Marquis while David himself had Kellendros out, ready to fire at will. Inwardly, he’s glad that Irina and their parents have gone off to spend some time in the city together, at least they’re _safe_ —though there may a small _twinge_ in his chest at the thought of them going without him, he cannot entirely deny that he’d basically _refused_ to go in the first place.

He was needed here, he’d said. Not that anything _exciting_ had happened until, well, _now_.

Drawing his sword carefully, he can make out a _figure_ coalescing from the light, slowly standing from what seems to be a crouched position and oh—the person _seemed_ tall, perhaps a few inches more than Rush. Despite the suddenness of this appearance, the Sykes felt that there is nothing to be alarmed at.

_Yeah, tell yourself that when he lunges at you with a sword._

He tightens his defence.

The incandescence slowly begins to fade. Particles of light disperse into the ceiling and Rush begins to actually _recognize_ the figure dusting their clothes. His jaw slowly drops, and all he can think about is the _dream_ that he’d had on the way to the Holy Plains.

David moves to the front of his entourage, slipping between his ( _most likely_ ) shocked Generals. Apparently, he hasn’t realized yet the sheer _magnitude_ of _who_ exactly has crash-landed into their meeting. Or maybe, he just can’t _identify_ him.

 _Which makes sense_. Rush thinks vaguely, _though I might’ve been a little faster when I was in his position_.

“Who are you? State your intentions!” David’s voice rings out, and it is strong and _clear_ and when Rush looks at him, it seems as if he _does_ have suspicions, he _knows_ but he _has_ to confirm it first. Around him, the Generals are slowly waking from their shock and though uncertain, they are fast to tense once more, weapons at the ready as well as _themselves_ should their Lord command them to battle, no _matter_ the identity of this newcomer.

After all, if Rush’s counterpart isn’t on their side, how can they trust _David’s_ counterpart?

“I am Lord David Nassau, Duke of Athlum.” The answering tone is _just_ as strong and it is as Rush suspects though he _is_ confused at the change in title. He doesn’t much understand what it _means_ — _another_ thing he’ll have to ask Pagus about—but he gets his answer straight away.

David’s eyes widen at the other’s words, and lips part in shock. There’s a strangled sound in his throat and he takes one step forward, one step _down_ from his throne and his head shifts to the side, a manner that Rush has noticed about him whenever sceptical or even _surprised_ about something enough to question it.

“Athlum… is independent?” The Marquis sounds stunned yet there is an underlying tone of _happiness_ in it. To know that one day he will reach his goal must be something _extraordinary_ and Rush smiles then, despite the situation. He’s _glad_ the other does manage to do it, even if he learns it in a rather unconventional manner.

To his surprise, the older Nassau does not seem to mind carrying on such a conversation. “It is. In my past, the Duke of Qubine decided to spring it on us when informing me that I was to be acting chairman for Congress.”

Rush isn’t entirely sure _when_ that time will come, but he doesn’t focus on that. A grin splitting his features now, he takes a step forward, a hand already rising for a fist pump. “Alright, Dave!” Despite the unexpected situation, everyone seems to be carrying on _normally_ enough, _especially_ David. Apparently, his measure of composure is _limitless_ except when it comes to Athlum’s independence, even in the face of his apparent future self. The Generals, however, seems to be a little _more_ sceptical yet… _observant_ , if _that_ is even the correct word. They’re appraising the person that seems to be an older version of their current Lord, and Rush can’t exactly _blame_ them. It’s not as if he himself isn’t checking the guy out.

In a _totally_ non-sexual way, of course.

… Then again, older David _did_ have a _sweet_ A. It certainly isn’t helped at _all_ by the garments he now wore; laced with the colours of Athlum, black and red, it is a far cry from what the younger David is wearing now (in clothes that, Rush admits, leaves far _too_ much to the imagination though of course that never derailed from the beauty that _is_ David Nassau as a whole). He never understood the heavy garments that the Dukes wore, but at least David, when _older_ stood out from that.

Rush appreciates that. Well, _that_ and his _fine_ figure.

“I apologize, Rush…” Apparently, Rush has zoned out enough to not even notice _fast_ this older version of David can move; _already_ he is there in front of him and Rush can see, out of the corner of his eye, the Generals move forward in alarm. However, the younger David lifts a hand, eyes intent on his counterpart who is now _kneeling_ before Rush, head bowed and how had he not _noticed_ it when his motionless hand was taken? Dark hues are wide upon the actions the David in front of him is going through and he notes how _easily_ the man seems to press his forehead against the exterior of Rush’s palm and ultimately he is _unmoving_ , incredibly _confused_ at the outcome of these events and he can only stand stock still, _gaping_ as David not only _kneels and takes his hand_ , but also _kisses_ it.

A distant part of him is wildly _happy_ at this course of action. Even if it isn’t the exact _time period_ , David is here and he’s taking his _hand_ , he’s pressing those warm _lips_ against his skin and he can feel those callouses upon his fingers, can feel how _rough_ they are and he shivers, utterly _taken_ by how _mesmerizing_ David is, no matter _how_ old he may be (surely not _that_ much older, for there is not a _wrinkle_ to be seen) and—

And Rush wonders why these thoughts are even taking place in his head in the _first_ place. He hasn’t… he doesn’t _like_ David in _that_ way, right? Sure, he found him _attractive_ but he doesn’t _think_ he’s considered anything romantic, doesn’t think there’s been a single _notion_ towards it—

                                     ( _foolish **m h a c** ; _

_\-- remnants do not l o v e like **MITRA** do_ )

When had he started…?

                                     ( _to be bound is **ETERNAL** ; to bind **willingly** is to l o ~~v e blin~~ dly_

 _ha **ve y** ou **chosen** well,  m h a c?_ )

“But I must implore you of something.” David’s voice is soft and _deep_ and there is that _accent_ he _~~loves~~_ lacing his tone and Rush _sways_ to it, finds himself nodding as if in a _trance_ and there is a _call_ in the distance but all Rush can focus on right now are those deep _eyes_ , such sharp features and often _cute_ face and he cannot help himself—a hand raises to clasp atop the other’s own and he notes now how _long_ David’s hair has grown, only just _slightly_ past his shoulders but it still frames handsome features _perfectly_.

David’s next words are both a plea and a command ~~and something _else_ altogether~~.

“ ** _Stay with me._** ”

( _~~a **trick**~~_ )

An unheard whisper.

Rush draws in a breath then, and right now it seems like David is the _only_ person within his sights, the only person that _matters_ and he is the one that he’ll live for, fight for, and _die_ for. He’ll protect him, he won’t _ever_ let him get harmed and no one is to ever _touch_ him for—

David Nassau is _his_.

“Luminescence…?” There is a whisper of _awe_ to the side, the _only_ word heard by him for it is one that _resonates_ because he _knows_ this is what is happening, knows that the light illuminating both himself _and_ David is exactly _that_ and he finds he doesn’t _mind_ it, doesn’t mind being bound _to_ him. They own _each other_ and _that_ is enough, that is enough for Rush to pin all his loyalties on him, to trust him completely and _readily_ and…

“Dave…” He murmurs aloud, and his eyelids feel strangely heavy. He cannot tear his eyes away from David’s and he supposes he doesn’t mind _this_ either.

“Stop!” The voice seems distant. Rush doesn’t pay any attention to it, and neither does David.

The light around them starts to fade. Rush’s knees buckle then, and he feels strangely _weak_. “Sorry.” The soft murmur escapes him, apology for being so weak in the _first_ place and unable to neither move nor _serve_ him the right way he _should_ be doing. He feels arms wrap around him comfortingly, but he does not think it is out of _forgiveness_.

“What are you _doing_ to him?! _Release him!_ ” He hears swords being drawn, the sound of _running_ now, steps _light_ upon the ground and there are _several_ people coming, attempting to intercede and _hurt_ David and there is a flare of _panic_ up his spine; he would _not_ allow harm to come to David, not while Rush is right _here_ \--!

“Rush.” He lifts his head and— _yeah,Dave?Anythingyouwantmetodo,Dave?_ —the other’s features are so _close_ to his own and he only stares, _enamoured_ with how _finely_ those features are structured, how _mature_ they have become and David is gorgeous, truly and _completely_ — “Protect me.”

 _Anything_.

It is _instantaneous_ how much _power_ laces through his very _being_ , his _veins_ and he can flex it with just the power of his _will_ despite his previously weak state; he is able to do anything and _be_ anything for David and he follows the command _immediately_ , feels the light come _back_ and envelope them both and _expand_ and _protect_ them, a shell of sorts and the approaching _enemies_ are buffeted _away_ and one… _one_ cry of agony reaches his ears and he stiffens at the sound, feels his hand clench _painfully_ in response _,_ because… it’s ultimately _familiar_ but why can’t he place it…?

“Come.”

He stands at David’s command and feels a _little_ stronger. The shield is still up and it is still _draining_ his energy, but he doesn’t mind, he doesn’t _care_ as long as it protects David. There is an arm around his waist, as if sensing his imbalance, and he’s grateful that the other would even _bother_ helping support him. His gaze flickers over the weary figures upon the floor, the _enemies_ that had tried to harm the one beside him and they are _lower_ than dirt, they are _slime_ and if Rush had more power, then he would _crush_ them where they lay.

Except… _one_ is getting up. Shakily, and using his sword to support him. For some reason, Rush’s chest _aches_ at the sight. Strange.

“ _Enthrallment_?” The unknown person spits out, and there is a _heavy_ glare from him, from stormy hues that speak _legions_ of command and wisdom yet they reduce to agitated _worry_ for… ~~for _Rush_~~? “Is _binding_ him not enough for you? Why must you stoop so low as to keep him under your thrall? Don’t you...?” There is pure _confusion_ and _anger_ in that tone, and Rush feels himself move slightly towards him, feels his desires _shifting_ — ~~because this male is hurt and he needs _attention_ and he’d _sworn…!_~~ _—_ but there is this _fog_ in his mind, _overwhelming_ in nature and the arm at his waist tightens.

“ _Don’t you **love** him?_ ”

Lights begin to build up around _both_ their forms, a tell-tale sign of _some_ sort of Art, though it is _wholly_ unrecognizable, likely something created in the future. Rush looks up, and the reality around him is _fading_ , _crumbling_ around them and the process is _familiar_ , if anything else.

And before they disappear _completely_ , David’s answer is simple, soft, and _sorrowful_.

“More than you know.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the art above was drawn for me by a friend on tumblr. her url is brederp and she runs commissions and she's a super talented artist!!! check her out!! ;D


	7. sé

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for a bit of david POV lovin'

The aftermath is less than unpleasant.

The entirety of the scene had been swift and _unexpected_ , so much so that David’s head is still spinning even after the last vestiges of light had gone. He does not know _when_ he had reached out towards Rush, does not know when he had attempted to lunge _forward_ but he is kneeling on the ground now, unsure as _well_ of how _broken_ his visage is and he lowers his hands down, hanging his head between his shoulders on all fours.

_How could… this happen?_

“My Lord?”

He does not move when she approaches, or when she rests a gentle hand upon his shoulder. He has _failed_ , ultimately, in protecting Rush, in protecting one of his _own_ and he feels his head _pound_ from the loss, and it is especially _more_ unbearable knowing that _he_ was the one to do it.

“If I had not hesitated…” He whispers and _knows_ he could have done something to prevent this, could have acted _sooner_ , and he squeezes his eyes shut firmly, beating back the brimming heat at his eyelids. He is _Marquis_ , a _leader_. Loss of his own men is not uncommon, and he has learnt to strive past it, to not make their deaths _meaningless_.

_Ah, but Rush is not dead._

Then why is he mourning so?

“My Lord, you could not have known. He had… _seemed_ cordial enough to the notion of cooperation.” Torgal moves in now to the other side of him, and though he does not initiate contact like Emmy does, he feels his concern all the same.

The Marquis breathes, exhaling and inhaling slowly. It has been a long time since he has had to resort to breathing exercises, but his nerves have been _incredibly_ frayed. First, he has to worry about the Conqueror but now… now these individuals coming from the _future_ and only _adding_ to the problem. “Are those who time travel not obligated to make their present better by helping the past?” He asks suddenly, slowly sitting up and looking forward, out to the open of his beloved city. “Do they not come to erase the source of their regrets?” He wonders, then, when Irina and her parents will get back and what exactly he will _say_ to them.

“Perhaps they are helping, but in a far different way than we can imagine or even understand.” Pagus answers him, shuffling forward and David accepts Blocter’s silent offer of help, the yama hauling him to his feet successfully. “You are sometimes unpredictable, Lord David. Maybe even to yourself.”

David stays silent for a moment longer. All of their words made sense—he is not foolish enough to deny them and insist upon his own beliefs. He trusts his Generals, and in turn they trust him back.

But do they trust _him_?

“Do you believe my older self will harm Rush?” He asks quietly of the four of them. As they are silent, he bends down, picking up the sword he had dropped earlier and slides it into its sheath. His counterpart, he had noticed, had borne something similar to Rush’s own weapon.

It is Emmy who finally answers, and her voice is soft and sweet. She takes after her mother in this moment, and he sees Emmy in her _own_ right, a great fighter and someone who cares _deeply_ for those she is loyal to. He is grateful. “Lord David… did you not say it yourself?” She presses, and moves before him to look at him. “And _you_ said it, not your counterpart. You love Rush, and it is clear that… _he_ does as well.”

_Ah, so it boils down to **that**._

David had not known it himself. He had not known how _deep_ his feelings for Rush had gotten, distracted as he has been with gaining independence for Athlum, finding Rush’s sister, stopping the _Conqueror_ —he had not paid attention to his own feelings at _all_ yet on occasion, he has _enjoyed_ talking to Rush, has found the other male amusing and _fun_ to be with. He could not think of a life _without_ him now that Rush has literally _blundered_ his way into his own, with no formality to _speak_ of. They had entered into their relationship as equals—not as a peasant and _lord_ , but as _friends_ —, and that… _that_ is what touched David the most.

He had not realised that he loved him until he saw his counterpart and Rush… _interact_.

Sure, he has seen both men and women hit on the Sykes alike. Whatever city they ventured into, there is always _someone_ who found Rush’s charm appealing, someone who had wanted him for _themselves_ and _there_ — _there_ David did not mind. He witnessed these flirtations, has seen individuals make the move on Rush but not _once_ , not _once_ has Rush _ever_ responded. Perhaps he’ll brush it off with an amused laugh or a joke, but there has not been a _single_ hint of him accepting any requests of being dated nor being taken to bed. David had rationalized it to there being a sweetheart waiting for Rush at home, but upon that line of questioning, Rush had responded otherwise.

‘No.’ He’d said, laughing, and had clapped David on the shoulder. ‘Nothing of the sort, Dave. You _know_ you’re the only for me~’

Never before had the Marquis taken something so _literally_ , _especially_ subconsciously.

He had not assumed they were dating from then, because there was mirth in Rush’s eyes, jest at the idea that they could actually _be_ together and perhaps there was _some_ unexpected deflation at that notion, but David had just shrugged it off, as always.

But seeing his counterpart move to Rush, despite _touching_ him so much more _simply_ than all the other individuals within the pubs… it fires up David more than he can possibly _imagine_. When Rush’s hand had been taken, when it’d been _kissed_ and when his older self had requested something so _personal_ —it is not _exactly_ those actions that had gotten to the Marquis. No, it is the way Rush had _responded_ that set _fire_ to David’s veins. Rush had looked at his counterpart, and saw someone _special_ , someone incredibly _important_ to him and David was not _oblivious_ to how _taken_ Rush had been, so _enamoured_ …

_That should’ve been me._

He almost surprises himself with how possessive he sounds.

Almost.

It is a strange thought nonetheless, for it _is_ himself that Rush has responded to. Yet, his _future_ self felt… _off_ somehow. Disconnected and…

He could not find the word.

“Thank you.” He says finally and his words are _laden_ with his gratitude. He turns to his Generals, and once more is glad that they stay with him, _especially_ in light of these events for encountering the concept of _time travel_ is not something that they are _used_ to, he imagines. Indeed, the only experience they’ve had with it is Rush’s Timeshift, which is _incredibly_ limited…

_Of course._

 He starts to pace.

“What do you all think of my future self?” David asks first. “From my personal observations, he is… rather determined to do things on his own. He did not ask any of us for help nor try to explain the current situation.” Inwardly, he is restraining himself from showing how absolutely _furious_ he is. Perhaps there is the slightest twitch of his jaw to indicate such a thing, but otherwise, the Marquis is utterly _composed_.

It doesn’t seem to fool those who have both raised and grew _up_ with him, however.

“My Lord.” Torgal steps forward, both sets of arms crossed against his torso. “I agree with what you have proposed. Your counterpart is indeed someone who is used to operating alone. From the looks of how he has handled things, I suspect…” A short cough escapes the Sovani, and it is then he looks away. “I suspect he has not had anyone with him for a long time.”

Some of David’s anger abates; he cannot imagine acting alone. He operates solely with his _team_ and that will not change, not if he can help it. Still, his outrage is not appeased _entirely_. “I cannot imagine what hardships he has endured, but that does _not_ excuse his behaviour.” Fists clench by his sides and he shifts away from his Generals, unable to hold back his fury. “To control a friend—to control _Rush_ like that… it is one thing to _bind_ him but it is another thing _entirely_ to _enthral_ him.” Never…   _never_ under _any_ circumstances would he enforce his will upon another person, least of all someone he considered close to him. Perhaps his other self had thought it necessary, but it is _crucial_ to ask opinions first, not to just decide on his own. “He has not confided in us as he should have and instead has taken matters into his own hands.” He turns back to his Generals. “If he saw it fit to control Rush, someone he _should_ have consulted beforehand, then he holds no trust in us either. I see no reason not to return the sentiment.”

He steps forward, and they stand at attention. Sweeping his arm before him, tan features are hardened by years of command and he _speaks_ with all the _experience_ behind words that are clear and _strong_. “If you engage my counterpart at _any time_ , then you are to take him down by _any means necessary_. Do not _hesitate_. He may be your Lord in the future, but _I_ am your Lord right _here_ , right _now_. Disregard _any_ connection he may have to me, and I to him. You are not to see him as the future Duke of Athlum, but as the _enemy_.”

He _sees_ the hesitation within their faces, he sees the wariness and _uncertainty_ that comes with such an order but they all nod in agreement, saluting as one. “Yes, My Lord!”

“I apologise. I am essentially pitting you all against myself but know that I do not make this decision lightly. It is clear that he will be a threat unless his intentions are explained.” It will be hard for them to fight his counterpart at _all_ , he is sure, and so that is why David decides to make the number one priority intercepting him _first_ out of them all. David will have _no_ trouble fighting his future self.

“And the other matter, My Lord?” Torgal asks, stepping forward. It is a vague question and to anyone else it is confusing for the Sovani does not elaborate. David, however, nods in understanding.

“I did not know that Rush is a Remnant. That was information not disclosed to me.” He wonders if Rush knows it himself; really, David _should_ have guessed, after hearing that the group of lights upon the Tracking Remnant had been Rush’s counterpart, but even then, perhaps there _had_ been a part of him that was suspicious, else he would be _far_ more shocked. “In any case, no one is to know about this. It is to be kept secret unless Rush wishes to share it.” Nods follow from his Generals.

 _Does this mean Rush is not Marina and John Sykes’ son?_ David continues in his mind, turning away from them; brows are furrowed together, and he does not know what to think. _Are he and Irina unrelated? Perhaps it is best to consults the Sykes about this_. _If anything, **they** should clear up the confusion._

“What is your next course of action, Lord David?” Pagus’ voice interrupts his thoughts.

David pauses once before beginning to voice his inner machinations aloud. “I admit, it does not sit well with me that Rush is within my counterpart’s hands. _That_ , I imagine, will be the first thing to take care of. The Conqueror can wait—“

“The Conqueror _cannot_ wait.” Came a young voice, and David stills briefly before focusing on the approaching visitor, eyes wide upon the young boy that now strides into the throne room, steps sure and _proud_.

“My Lord--!” David steps forward, and rapidly does he compose his features for the Duke must _not_ see his emotional state. Not right now. He cannot afford to let anyone else be privy to the time travelling situation at hand. He can only hope that the other had not been eavesdropping.

The Duke of Qubine shakes his head, lifting a hand. “Please, David, inform me that you will not put the Conqueror on the backburner. After all, Duke Ghor and myself have devised something rather _important_ for you to hear…”

Apparently, independence for Athlum is to come sooner than he has expected.


	8. seacht

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for a late update, i got a bit of a writer's block! all the same, i hope y'all enjoy and don't forget to leave kudos if you liked it! ;D it helps me know whether i'm doing alright or not. also, this chapter is mainly explanation and such; some headcanons of my own and some inspired by other mass interpretations floating around like on the wiki. if something doesn't make sense, then lemme know and i'll try to fix it or explain it! ;D

He sits with his eyes half-shut in Enthrallment.

A mere _puppet_ he may be right now, lax when not being used but _fierce_ when his strings are pulled, when his _owner_ is being threatened. Right now, there is a soft buzz in his ears, a _lulling_ sound and he feels strangely _tired_ , as if he has not slept in a long, long while. His mind is blank but there is no _resistance_ towards this; he does not find it strange nor does he think he should oppose this at all.

He’s not sure how long he has been here. He’s not even sure where _here_ is.

… Should he care?

( **_~~WAKE~~_** _ ~~little **WARDEN**. he is UNW ORTHY UNWORTHY **UN** **WORTHY** an ABERRATION to our **species** he is **NOT** to be  T R U S T E D~~ _)

His hand twitches.

Not a moment later _another_ curls atop it, one that is not his own. Stormy hues gaze into unresponsive ones, and David is kneeling before him. Tan features are impassive, but he does not stay silent for long.

“I apologise, Rush. Truly, but I had to do this.” His voice is soft. His free hand lifts, and it ghosts along the remnant’s jaw, gentle and _caring_ yet full of so much _remorse_. The caress is sweet and is followed by a chaste press of lips against his cheek, a kiss that _lingers_ and as David separates, it is as if he is uprooting a tree from the ground for all the effort it seems to take him to do so. Rush _feels_ the kiss, the _touches_ but does not move, does not _react_.

He’s not able to.

( _~~KILL HIM he is **not** WORTH Y to step **AMO NG** US ; are you not awake **M H A C**?~~_ )

There’s a small noise made in the back of David’s throat, and for a moment, Rush guesses it is a sound of despair. He suspects that he won’t be finding out anytime soon, however.

“I cannot risk letting you go free. I know you far too well to do that.” David stands then, turning away like a man avoiding a dreadful fate, and some part of Rush laments at the loss. “If you knew what was coming then I imagine you’ll throw yourself into the danger.” A short laugh, but it is dry. “But…”

The blond turns to him. “Rush, do you trust me?”

( _~~cast him A **WA** Y this **ABOM** INATION this **A B H O R R E N C E** of remnant NATUR **E** ~~_ )

His response is immediate as well as robotic.

“Yes.” _~~I don’t know~~_ ~~.~~

A grimace forms.

“… Of course you do.” A murmured response, but it does not prompt Rush to answer back. His next words are quiet.

“I’m trying to save you.”

Rush hears the _~~not-voice~~_ speak for him.

( _at what **p r i c e**?_ )

David does not answer.

* * *

 

_Still sleeping?_

_Mm_. He cannot muster a proper reply.

_Tell me, how do you see and feel past your limitations?_

A pause. A sleepy drawl. _Not sure_.

_Ah._

* * *

 

“We are to visit the God Emperor tomorrow.” Fists tighten around the ends of the arm rests upon his throne, and his gaze averts downwards, slowly and _reluctantly_ processing the events that have occurred.  

Finally, Athlum has gotten the independence she _needs_ and David _would_ have celebrated, would have been incredibly _pleased_ if it were not for the previous events dampening his spirits. To be chosen as the acting Chairman of the Congress, as _well_ as the one to seek an audience with the God Emperor about the Conqueror… can he really just put Rush on hold as he does this?

 _Priorities_.

 _A leader does not put their own needs before the needs of their people_.

He is the Marquis of Athlum—ah, the _Duke_ of Athlum now. It is his responsibility to safeguard his people, his responsibility and duty and _desire_ to protect and bring them _happiness_ and _security_ , even at the expense of his own. The life of one does not equal…

Why is he trying _so hard_ to _convince_ **himself**?

A low exhale, and he reaches his decision. Before him, Torgal steps forward, concerned over his extended silence.

“Lord David?”

There is a flex of his wrist and he stands; he _steels_ his features and does not leave _any_ hint of what he is thinking. No, he has _far_ mastered the art of concealing _any_ emotion from _anyone_ , he has done so since he has first stepped forward to be trained into a _Marquis_ , a _leader,_ for _nothing_ can be more paramount than his people; no tears should be shed for him nor should there be any shed _from_ him. He made a _choice_ to protect his _people_ and take on their _burdens_ as a _whole_ —

And he will _not_ go back on it.

 _Rush… I am sorry_.

“It is an order we must follow through. The Conqueror must not be allowed to go on as he is now—if there are answers to be had from the God Emperor, then we shall find them.”

His Generals know his doubts, his indecision and struggle—they can _sense_ it and he _knows_ they know. Still, they are duty-bound, just as he is.

Fists are slapped against their chests, and there is a simultaneous bow of their heads.

“Yes, My Lord!”

He’d not been thinking before, caught up in the possibilities of what Rush may be going through when there _may be_ nothing to worry about. After all, this is _himself_ he is thinking of, and perhaps anger and—he admits— _jealousy_ , has clouded his judgement when he had been about to dismiss the Conqueror—a world _threat_ —, deeming him less of a danger than his counterpart. While his intentions may not be clear, David knows he will never do anything to endanger someone he cares deeply about.

If that is to change throughout however many years then… no, he will _never_ let it come to that.

“My Lord, what about Rush?” Emmy steps forward then, and David wishes she had not.

He averts his gaze then, slightly ashamed. “He… he will have to wait, I’m afraid. The Conqueror is currently far more of a threat right now.”

“Can we not send a search party on the side?” Torgal speaks now and the Duke shakes his head.

“I don’t wish for anyone to face my counterpart without me. I need to face him myself.” David clenches his fists for he’s worried about what may _happen_ if there is to be a confrontation without him being there. He’s not certain of what to expect, but

“You do not trust us, Lord David?” Pagus cocks his head then.

Immediately, David shakes his head, inwardly aghast at such an accusation. “Of course I do! I just… need to oversee this one myself. I _must_ confront him.”

Blocter begins shaking his fist. “We can do it, young master! We’ve handled you since you were a little kid, ‘memba?”

A pause. How is he to approach this _at all_? He _needs_ to be there, to wrangle _answers_ out of his counterpart. It is not as if he doesn’t trust his Generals, it is more of the desire to actually _be_ there.

“What… happened to Rush?”

His head jerks up from his contemplative stupor, eyes widening upon spotting the Sykes entering the throne room. Instantaneously, there is a _myriad_ of emotions within him and he feels his chest _tighten_ with such anxiety, wondering what _exactly_ he _can_ say to the sister of the one he’s delayed the search for. Yet, how does she…?

“I felt it.” Irina answers his unvoiced query—perhaps guessing it—, and looks up at David with crestfallen features. “I felt when Rush was taken from me—he really _is_ a Remnant then, isn’t he?” She turns then, and he is slightly glad that sorrowful gaze is directed upon her parents. “Why didn’t you _tell_ us? Is he your son? Was he ever _truly_ related to me by blood?”

David slowly stands, moving between his generals and they part for him, their expressions varying at the situation. The Marquis has no idea how to approach this sensitive topic, _especially_ since it seems like a private matter.

John is the first to react, and his weathered visage is grave yet _determined_ as he grasps his daughter gently by her shoulders. “Well, of _course_ he is, Irina! The moment your mother brought him to me, I already considered him a part of the family. It doesn’t matter _what_ he is. He’s _Rush_ , and that’s all that matters.”

The knot of tension coils tighter in David, for he knows his explanation is coming up. Irina will turn to him and ask _where_ Rush is exactly—

“I thought he was a monster.”

_You…_

Noting that everyone seems far too _shocked_ to articulate a proper reply to her words, Marina steps away, turning to pace a few meters. Her features are stony and closed-off, and David does not know how she can say that so _bluntly_ with such little _emotion_ in her eyes, in her very _expression_. It is frightening, but he cannot move an inch just yet.

“I found him in the Sacred Lands one day. It’d been a few years after John and I were married.” She begins, and stops to face them; her hands are intertwined at her front, and her gaze alternates between them all. “There was a cradle—a floating cradle. At first, I thought it was merely a Remnant that had concealed itself to trick me somehow, a new one that could create illusions _vividly_.

I panicked at first. I had no idea what to do because what _could_ I do if I were already caught within the danger? I turned to run but… it started crying.” _Here_ her expression flickers with _something_ , but David is a little too far away to discern it, else he mistakes it for something like _disgust_. “I-I couldn’t just _leave_ it like that. Some motherly instinct kicked in, and I went back, went to check on it and… it _smiled_ at me.” There is a past wonder, a past confusion and _repulsion_ within her eyes and voice. David wishes she will stop referring to Rush as an _it_.

“I don’t know what possessed me to take it back with me, but I knew I had to. There was no doubt in my mind then, that it was the first Remnant to be born as a Mitra. I was lucky to have come across it after I had finally developed the Tablet. I decided to leave it for now, and—“

“Stop!” Irina steps forward suddenly, arms sweeping out for her cry is _pained_ , wholly _horrified_ at how her mother is speaking. “Don’t refer to Rush as just an ‘ _it_ ’. He’s more than that, mom, you _know_ that!”

“Irina--!” There is no tremor in her tone, unlike her daughter’s. She starts forward, her hand lifting to rest a hand upon Irina’s shoulder—or perhaps even _hit_ her—but she pauses, slender digits now curling in a fist. Eyes fixate on it before she sighs, shaking her head; she flexes her wrist once before continuing. “I went back out of the Sacred Lands to find the Tablet. I couldn’t just leave it…leave _Rush_ there. I knew I had to keep an eye on him.” _Now_ there is pain entering her voice, and David is slightly glad to hear it. He does not want to end up thinking _she_ is the monster. “I returned and used the Tablet. I wanted to seal away the Remnant side of Rush so that only the Mitra side remained, so that he could be raised _normally_.” Her hand ascends to rest at her brow and David can believe she is distressed.

“The Talismans… they’re Rush’s power. His Remnant side.” Irina instinctively clutches the Talisman at her breast at the revelation, but she doesn’t seem _too_ surprised. Marina notices this, and there is a thin smile curving her lips. “I did not intend for it, but Rush bound himself to you the moment you were born. It surprised me, because I truly thought he would be fully Mitra without his powers.” She shakes her head, and the expression dampens once more. “I was wrong, of course.”

She pauses for a millisecond before carrying on, almost _reluctantly_ and there is a clear undertone of regret. “… However, it turned out to be an advantage. Rush would serve to be your guardian, he would protect you and help you. I saw him as someone to be used, someone to safeguard you. Even after four years, I still did not see him as a son.” Her eyes crease in remembrance, as if she is grieving.

To just use Rush like that… David cannot entirely _believe_ it, that she is conniving enough to manipulate a life like that but he cannot deny that he _too_ has tried to use Rush. The guilt of doing so rises in him, but he squanders it mercilessly. He will confess to it later, to Rush himself, so as to apologize for his misdeeds. Though, to think that Marina, a mother-figure, would do this… it is almost unimaginable to conceive.

He looks to Irina, and she looks far more aghast about this than he ever can be. He cannot imagine what it must feel like, for he knows she is as dedicated to her brother as he is to her. Had Marina intended for her daughter to love and want to protect Rush instead of just vice versa?

“A few days after Irina was born, Rush disappeared. I had no idea where he went—it was as if he completely vanished into thin air. I panicked so much, I _feared_ for Rush’s safety. It’s then I realised that… I truly _did_ look at him as more than a Remnant. I loved him like a son, despite John being the one to look after him all these years primarily. I had tried to distance myself so much, but of course it did not work.” She looks to the ground and for once David can detect shame. He’s relieved.  She really _does_ love Rush, after all.

“Marina…” John moves forward now, and he clasps his wife’s hand, holding them tightly in his own. He looked as if he was to say something more, but she merely nods once, smiling sadly at him.

“I… I had an idea of where Rush went. I had no clue as to how but… he had to be in Elysion, in the Sacred Lands. Where else would he go?” She squeezes her partner’s hands, and looks to Irina once more. “Leaving you in John’s hands, I decided to go there immediately. I was so desperate to find him, and I couldn’t truly understand why.

And then… I found him within the Sacred Lands, standing before the cradle I found him in. I don’t know how he got there, but I was scared. I was scared that he’d somehow leave and cease… cease being _Rush_ , cease being the son I decided to keep.” She bows her head, and there is silence. David himself had no idea what to say, what to even _think_. There is a whole _plethora_ of questions popping into his head at once, at _how_ Rush was born, how he came to _be_ but perhaps they are answers to be left for another time.

Irina is the first to speak. “Mom, you…” She doesn’t seem to be able to find the words, but she turns to David suddenly, earnest in her stance. “Mr. David… if Rush was bound to me, then how did someone else unbind him?” Indeed, it’s one of the questions that David himself has been brewing in the back of his mind. How exactly has his counterpart managed to do this?

Out of the corner of his eye, Torgal looks to him. “I believe it would be best to explain, My Lord.”

There’s no reason to keep it from the Sykes, and so David does not hesitate to launch into the story, detailing what exactly has happened. He’s loathe to register the worry and horror within their faces, _Irina’s_ especially and so he averts his gaze. The tale tastes bitter on his tongue (for there is an acrid mix of frustration, worry, and _helplessness_ ), and by the end of it he decides to move forward, to kneel before Irina and, placing his hand across his chest, he bows his head.

“I apologize for the actions my future self has taken, Miss Irina. I only wish that I knew his intentions so as to not cause you worry.”

There is silence for a moment before a hand rests upon his shoulder, and he looks up. There is no placing the current expression upon Irina face, but she pats him gently with her hand.  

“Mr. David…” She begins, and there is the most subtle curve upon her lips. “You love my brother?”

“Well…” A short cough expels from his throat, and he finally stands, eyes averting awkwardly before they come back to rest upon her. “It is… complicated.” He says lamely and he cannot explain _why_ that may be the case.

There is an admittedly _loud_ snort from Emmy and he has to send a mortified glare back to silence her.

Irina speaks once more, and he’s surprised to see a smile upon her face. “I trust you then, Mr. David! And I know you might not trust your future self, but I don’t think he’ll harm Rush at all.” She nods once, and her words are said with such confidence that the Marquis is baffled. “My brother is in safe hands!”

For a full moment, David stares at her, shocked. When he finally regains the feeling in his lips, he still cannot articulate his thoughts properly. “I… I don’t understand… you--?”

Irina grins, and he feels his spirits lift, if only slightly. “Don’t worry, Mr. David. Rush wouldn’t want you to.”

David looks back towards his Generals, confused. Hurriedly, Emmy steps forward, taking Irina’s hands in her own—shamelessly pushing David back in the process—and smiling gently. “Thank you, Irina, for your faith. After we visit the God Emperor, I imagine Lord David will wish to find Sir Rush in a hurry. He’s…” And the rest of her words are scattered in a murmur as Emmy leans over to whisper the rest in her ear. David leans forward in spite of himself, but he cannot hear a thing. Settling back, he fumes in embarrassment inwardly, _knowing_ it has something to do with how he has acted, considering the way both Irina and Emmy giggle.

Despite Irina’s words, however, there is still an unsettling feeling in his stomach. After meeting with the God Emperor, he indeed plans to go after Rush, no matter what. He still cannot place trust in someone who is clearly hardened from future years. No, David will _not_ take the risk.

 _Rush_ … _please stay safe._

Marina steps forward then, eyes narrowed in thought. “Irina told me about a… _future_ Rush appearing as well, and that his presence on the Remnant Tracker is of a multitude of Remnants. Did he and your counterpart travel here together?”

“I do not believe so.” Pagus interjects. His features are weary in contemplation. “They appeared at different times, and I have no doubt that if they knew of each other’s existence, then they would not have acted separately as they have been.”

“Unless… they’re against one another.” John shakes his head as he contributes to the discussion. “But—it’s unlikely, isn’t it? Still, I’m not surprised Rush is able to travel back in time—you remember the ability that you guys dubbed as Timeshift? Well, it’s not the first time he’s used it. Even when he was young, I remember him flitting around like a little ball of energy. Well, an _unnatural_ ball of energy— I didn’t think it was just the sugar that made him go so fast.”

Marina looks at him, dubiousness upon her expression. “You never told me of this, John.”

He shrugs helplessly in response. “Sorry, love. I… thought it best to keep it quiet.”

“When I saw Rush’s counterpart upon the Holy Plain, there were symbols upon his face, running all over his body, I believe.” David says, and they turn to him. “They were glowing a light green, and his eyes were different as well. Similar to when he uses the Talisman. If he is able to utilize a far more powerful version of Timeshift, then it’s likely he’s awakened.”

Irina’s eyes are large with worry. “And… I’m not sure if you saw it, Mr. David, but he also wore clothes the same as the Conqueror. And you remember what Rush said about... uh, Rush, right?”

“Of course.” David murmurs, and he shakes his head. The knot in his chest is tightening with each passing moment, and he feels the need to scream out the coalesced stress in him. How can he forget such an important detail? It’s clear, then, that… “The future Rush is on the Conqueror’s side. I’m certain that it’s because he’s awakened that that’s happened. I can’t think of anything else, save for him being enthralled.” There is an inward wince at the reminder that his counterpart had enthralled the Rush of this time. And then—a darker thought brewed. Was it possible that he, in the future, has somehow enthralled his Rush? But to what purpose would having Rush side against them be in the long run?

“Maybe your guys’ future selves really are fighting with each other. It doesn’t make sense that Rush came along with David if he’s only gonna haul his past self away.” John says quietly.

Emmy frowns, head tilting partially to the side. “Then… how did Lord David of the future come to the past if not without Rush’s help?”

“There are… other ways to mess with time and space.” Marina says suddenly. “Magick, for instance. You’ve seen Wagram use it—it’s powerful, but it isn’t something available for everyone. I imagine Lord David must have found a way to learn and utilize it, and judging by the successful time leap he’s advanced in it amazingly far within the short span of time he’s known it. Sometimes, it takes _decades_ for one to master the arts of Magick. Was the man you saw old?” Marina directs the question to David and his Generals and the Duke shakes his head. “Amazing.” She murmurs, gaze lingering on him before looking away once more. She doesn’t elaborate.

He doesn’t know entirely what to think of that, but he supposes that if he has displayed a natural talent for something as powerful as Magick, then he should look into it. Never before has he even _heard_ of such a thing, except for when Wagram has utilized it. If it gained him the upper hand on their enemies, then he has no problem researching and ultimately practising it.

“We shall discuss this when I get back.” David says abruptly, for he is cognizant of the setting sun beyond the entrance. The sooner he has a talk with the God Emperor, the sooner he can start his search for Rush. He looks to Irina, and there’s a hesitant query upon his tongue. “Are you able to…?”

Immediately getting what he is asking, Irina nods immediately and her hands hover before her chest in a nervous mannerism. “Of course, Mr. David! I wouldn’t want to miss this chance of meeting the God Emperor.”

There is a grateful smile upon his face. “Thank you.” He looks to his Generals, and they stand at attention instantaneously. “Make sure to rest up for the trip and prepare provisions.” If he can remember the route correctly, then it will not be easy. “We will leave at dawn for Mount Vackel!”

“Yes, My Lord!”


	9. ocht

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow im super late but!!! have a thing!!!  
> (ALSO!!! i'm a dumb and forgot to advertise the fact that i posted a fanart on chapter 6 i believe??? it's super awesome so y'all should check it out!!! ;D)

David, in hindsight, knows that the journey to Undelwalt will not be a peaceful one. On one hand, he'll be out of his mind with worry for Rush's safety. On the other hand...

Well.

"It's too cute!" Emmy is exclaiming now and David can hazard a guess as to what she's talking about given the glances towards himself and the whispered exchanges between her and Irina. Even now, more rapid conversation is taking place and David honestly had no idea that she can... be this spastic.

He's wholly aware of Torgal, who seems to be casting fuming--at least, in a Sovani-like way--glances back at the two girls and he imagines that the leader of the Four Generals is about to burst and tell them off for being 'immature on such an important quest'.

Or has he already done that?

David doesn't know. Perhaps he really is far too preoccupied with his own thoughts, despite the decision to travel with less people so as to incur less attention (plus, with the people that Rush has decided to hire, they'll inquire about his absence and the issue of the God Emperor may be touchy to some; David will like to get through the week without angering the single most important person in the world and he imagines the knowledge of time travel will be incredibly discomforting to some). Still, he finds the banter amusing as well as distracting.

"He will be fine, Lord David." Pagus is reaching up to pat his back reassuringly, and David almost starts in surprise because he hasn't noticed his approach, something that is sorely uncharacteristic of him and he nods at the words, grateful for the attempt at reassurance. "We have all known you since you were an infant, and we all have faith in your decisions. Though your counterpart is currently questionable, there is no doubt in my mind that there are only the best intentions in mind for those he cares about."

David stays silent for a moment longer. The Four Generals know him better than he knows himself at times, though there is still an ill feeling in his stomach that something is wrong. That something is wrong with _himself_ , his _future_ , and his Generals _may_ have faith, but what is faith in the face of absolute tragedy? When he looked at his older self, he saw a broken man: one that has lost everyone he has ever loved, one that has pushed _forward_ despite that burden, one that has been ultimately _crushed_ by it.

And a broken thing is utterly _unpredictable_.

“Thank you, Pagus.” He replies quietly, and the elder’s eyes slide to him before nodding. Nothing more needs to be said, though David cannot help but feel like the old qsiti has caught onto the disparaging response, even if it is unvoiced.

He’ll have to reassure him later on, he imagines. Right now, he cannot muster the energy to smile and only looks forward to a blissful sleep (if it is _generous_ enough to come for him amidst all this worry and _stress_ ). However, it seems there is still a few hours left of sunlight and he doesn’t wish to delay the journey further by requesting they stop and set up camp already. Delaying meant leaving Rush in _his_ hands and David is sorely _anxious_ at such an idea; perhaps a couple more hours and _then_ he will consider stopping for the night. That way, they will at least clear Mount Vackel, enough so to clear the iciness of the mountain that will interrupt their rest—

( **_care_** _f ~~ul Dav~~ e_ )

He jerks to a stop.

Around him, the others have as well though for an entirely _different_ reason. His vision focusing, he recovers quickly from the shock of hearing… that _voice_ before being bludgeoned by the sight of a large Spiritlord, seemingly. However, he figures it’s a rare monster judging by the size and the colour of it’s plumage; he’s not witnessed it before, and he looks to Pagus for his wisdom.

Noticing his unvoiced inquiry, Pagus answers with a bit of awe in his voice. “That is Heaven’s Lord, if I remember correctly. A formidable foe, though it’s defeat would be easier to bring about if we had more soldiers.”

It looks formidable indeed, perched majestically at the end of the path and coincidentally in their way among hardened ivory. If Rush... if Rush were here, they could have avoided the monster with the use of his Timeshift ability. Yet, that also meant there's the possibility of fighting it as well since with Rush, the entirety of their unions will have came. As it is, David supposes they will have to make-do with what they have. A few well-aimed shots with Ex Machina, and Mystic Arts shredding through the large creature to weaken it whilst simultaneously covering Blocter as he lands heavy blows upon it along with Emmy and Torgal should be enough. Irina will be there to keep them alive but far back enough so as to not get caught within any long-range attacks and even Curse (which David expects: the avian family does not stray far from abilities that weaken the party as a _whole_ ).

Risky. On an open terrain like this, their group will be detected instantly even if they try to attack from afar and Heaven's Lord will meet them halfway with ease. Perhaps the use of Arcana to start them off will be enough then they can lapse into battle formation.

"Lord David?" Torgal voices his query, and David feels all eyes on him. "Your orders?"

Normally, David defers to Rush. It is _him_ that brought them together after all, even if they tend to co-lead. And the Duke hasn't minded this; it's refreshing to see others lead instead, and Rush has proven to be excellent at it even if he has requested David's advice at times.

However, his presence is sorely _absent_ and so David naturally takes up leadership. "Pagus and Torgal with me for now; we'll use Arcana on it as soon as it sees us or its within range. Once it's close enough, Emmy, Torgal and Blocter will engage it with Combat Arts and myself and Pagus will attack with Mystic from afar as well as keep up health. Irina, back us up with supportive and Recovery Arts if we're injured, but otherwise stand by."

They nod in unison at his commands, and seeing that there seems to be no problem with his current plan, he adds on for good measure: “I must also caution you all—not only are we low on numbers but we’re up against a powerful enemy. If at all any of you find a window of opportunity, distract the beast long enough for the rest of us to escape, but _only_ if you yourself can escape afterwards. I would like all of us to reach Undelwalt alive without suffering the consequences of my own folly.” For he should have taken a few more soldiers along with him; he'd been worried about Athlum, leaving her basically defenseless but Emmy has assured him that the others will take care of it.

Though, when it comes down to it, it may be _them_ that needs to be taken care of.

Torgal looks as if he's about to say something, but David quickly carries on. He doesn't wish to listen to what will likely be a lecture. "We will win. I will make sure of it." He does not doubt their resolve and their courage, but they have to see he is confident, so as to secure their overall morale. Stepping forward now, he looks towards the beast waiting upon the horizon and draws his sword.

"With me, men!"

Some call the now Duke of Athlum _fearsome_ on the battlefield. He's heard whispers and felt the wary stares of awe and utter _respect_ , murmurs of his legendary Mystic skills and talent in the forbidden Arcana. Or perhaps it isn't so forbidden anymore, considering how others have utilized such terrifying power against them that the Duke had no choice but to reciprocate the damage. Still, it is something that makes other countries respect him, respect _Athlum_ and that is what he really aims for. Athlum needs to be seen in her own right, a city able to stand on her own and is powerful enough to be recognized without any sort of crutch.

Still, he would be nothing without his men. He would be nothing without his Generals and the power that the Gae Bolg gives him.

He'd especially be nothing without Rush by his side.

Without any of these individuals helping him to stand where he is now, an emissary for the Congress—as the acting _chairman_ —to the God Emperor himself, Athlum would not have become independent. He would not have been given any of the opportunities he has taken if not for the people he has met, if not for one who has _literally_ fallen into his life.

Still, he supposes this is no time to be reminiscing about the past and whatnot—he will express his gratitude later. Right now, there are problems that need to be fixed, to be removed, and this Heaven’s Lord is one of them.

As they advance, he hears both Pagus and Torgal come up beside him and at once the air is _crackling_ with Mystic power and he not only hears these other two but _feels_ them, their wavelengths synergizing to an exponential degree and an incandescent _light_ forms upon the atmosphere, terrifying and _huge_ and it looks to be growing and _growing_ and David feeds it, the _destruction_ the is sure to come upon the large avian before them and it in turn detects them all _immediately_ , it’s caws immediately shattered into disquiet at the Arcana that is now _enveloping_ the field and David is sure that this will do _significant damage_ and he sees Blocter and Emmy start to charge, perhaps to catch the beast in the aftermath of the Arcana and so he tries to finish the technique _quickly_ so as to join the battle himself--!

“Woah there, cowboy!”

Before David can even _register_ the words spoken, much less the _familiar_ tone, he feels a sudden force on his back and he’s immediately tipping face-first into the snow at his feet with a surprised yell that is muffled instantaneously by a mouth-full of iciness. Immediately digging his forearms into the cold ground so as to free himself, he sputters out the offending environment and thinks he may have accidentally _swallowed_ some of it. Still, he _knows_ that the use of Arcana has been interrupted and, furious, he gets up, shaking his arms to get rid of the snow still clinging to him and aims a glare at the newcomer with a venomous response upon his tongue and—

It dies the moment his eyes fixate upon the other.

“ _Wow_. Sorry, Dave! I didn’t think you’d go that far forward, heh. I guess I’m still not used to my strength.”

An _older_ Rush faces him now, hands up in surrender, still wearing those same clothes he’s worn whilst facing him upon the Holy Plain but the strange markings are gone from his face, as well as the luminescent glow within his irises. No, they’re a soft brown now, and his skin is as clear as, well, _David’s_ Rush. The hood is off, and his hair is looking positively _tussled_ and there’s boyish tilt to his head as he regards David and the Duke cannot help but feel slightly mortified at the inappropriate thoughts that are suddenly running through his mind. _Nothing_ at all to do with how… _attractive_ the man looks now, of course. He denies that completely, and instead rapidly tries to compose his features.

He’s grateful when Rush turns because he admittedly fails in gaining back _any_ composure. Not entirely sure how to react right now, he looks back to see Emmy and Blocter looking confused back at him, teetering on the edge of running to their lord to see what’s wrong or engaging with Heaven’s Lord like they initially planned, the beast now… _not moving_ …?

Or rather, it is _still_. David imagines that Rush has placed some precision of control over the great avian’s own flow of time, and that is why it has stayed it’s charge.

The display of power is admittedly _terrifying_ , moreso than the Arcana David had been about to call upon. However, it brings up the question of why the other is even _here_ in the first place, and why he hasn’t placed them all under that same power like the times his own Rush has witnessed.

"Irina." Rush is saying now, and David notes how smooth and mature his tone is.  It is deeper than he remembers but he focuses on the careful ease in which the man pulls Irina into an embrace, tightly and securely. "I'm so glad you're alright."

"Rush...?" Irina seems shocked at the current events and she seems far too flabbergasted to return the embrace given. However, only a second passes before she finally raises both her arms— only to push him _away_ , incredulity vividly etched upon her face.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on?!" Her stern tone is expected, but David still winces— though perhaps not as much as Rush does. Irina continues before the older counterpart of her brother can get a word in and he is left fidgeting. "And what's going on with your clothes?! Are you wearing the exact same thing the Conqueror is? Why did you tell us not to oppose him--?"

A shrill caw cuts through her words. Turning along with the others, David cannot _believe_ he's forgotten the immediate threat so easily. Seemingly not too bothered about the stillness in time it has experienced (if it remembers it at all), Heaven's Lord advances once more, though this time it's wings spread as it decides to take to the air this time. Apparently Rush getting told off is a good prerequisite for the time pausing to be interrupted.

Recovering quickly, David is about to snap out a few commands but Rush is suddenly there _beside_ him, his hand upon the Duke's shoulder and the words die in his throat.

"I got this, Dave. Don't you worry." There's an easygoing grin upon the older male's face, and David feels himself relax at the contact and reassurance,  if only slightly. Still, he finds his gaze lingering on the mature features a moment longer, and he's sure it won't move anytime soon for he witnesses a sudden _glow_ consuming previously dark irises and they are incandescent as utter _power_ is felt rising. The air is _palpable_ with it, and for a moment David expects something flashy to happen, so to speak, but that expectation is disappointed as there's a sudden, sharp _wind_ that tosses his clothes, his hair, before the invisible _force_ reaches Heaven’s Lord and it is eradicated in an _instant_.

The form vanquishing before his eyes with such _ease_ makes the Duke gape slightly. Rush's grin only gets wider as he cocks his head towards him, the glow fading from his eyes. "Impressive, huh?" He asks with smugness clear in his tone.

A bit frightening, David wants to correct but he has to admit it was impressive, in a way. He's overall glad that that particular technique had not been used on himself in the Holy Plain.

"Haven't seen you guys in a while! This is awesome!" And Rush is moving off once more, eagerly engaging with the Four Generals and they're positively shocked at the turn of events. David doesn't think he's seen Torgal's eyes grow that wide before.

Easily does Rush lapse into conversation with Blocter and tries to pull the others into it as well. David thinks it's a little ridiculous, considering the situation and he doesn't know whether or not to treat Rush as an enemy because of the clothes he's wearing and _especially_ what he said to this time's Rush before. Perhaps he's been mistaken...? If anything, the Rush before him now is as childlike as the one he's always known, despite however many years have passed for him.

And maybe David feels a tiny bit sore at the fact that Rush isn't paying more attention  to him, but he banishes the thought immediately.

He feels more than _hears_ Irina come up beside him while he is attempting to listen in to Rush's voice and feeling... admittedly _charmed_ by it even if the man isn't talking directly to him. However, he immediately becomes more attuned to Irina now when he realizes that she's _shaking_ , small tremors assaulting her body and he looks to her, a frown creasing his brows as he sees the discomfort in her features.

"Irina...? What's wrong?" He asks, though of course it is an idiotic question for the answer in right _there_ in _front_ of them, playfully dodging the soft punches by Blocter.

"His... the Remnant power I sensed from him in the Holy Plain was stronger than the power I'm feeling from him now." She informs him softly. “But… the multiple Remnant presences are still there. Inside him, I think.”

David hums slightly in acknowledgement of her words. He doesn’t know what to make of it because he hasn’t a clue as to _what_ kind of Remnants may be lurking within this Rush. What exactly has happened in the future to prompt both him and himself travelling back in time? And why… are they separated? Perhaps the cause of that is the reason why Rush is somewhat avoiding him now?

Apparently, he needn’t have fretted over that detail. Rush floats back over to David and Irina sheepishly, Blocter laughing an uproar whilst Torgal looks somewhat peeved and there’s Emmy and Pagus, bearing slightly neutral expressions. He isn’t too sure what they chatted about, but he imagines the Sovani must have ordered them back to David so that Rush can do some explaining. Some very much _needed_ explaining.

“Wow, sorry.” Rush says as he approaches, a hand lingering at the back of his head. It is a mannerism that has apparently lived on, David notes, but decides to push his observations to the side for now. He has to focus, get answers out of Rush because he may very well know where his counterpart has taken the other’s own counterpart (the details are beginning to become confusing within David’s mind) and perhaps he can get answers about the Conqueror and… possibly what may happen in the future, if Rush will depart with such sensitive information. Perhaps it is sly of the Duke but he is never one to pass up the opportunity to gain a tactical advantage over his enemies, even if it is by unorthodox means such as timetravel.

“I kinda got carried away there, didn’t I? It’s just—it’s been a _really_ long time since I’ve seen everyone so…” Rush carries himself in a confident way in his explanation, and David finds he doesn’t doubt the words themselves. He’s glad that the other’s cheerful nature hasn’t been squandered by whatever is happening in his own present, for it sounds bad considering how his own counterpart has been acting. Seeing that the Rush’s words have died down, David steps forward then, head shifting the slightest bit to face him.

“Rush, as much as I would love for the pleasantries to continue, can you explain what’s going on?” He’s ever so composed in his query, eyes searching dark ones that seems to shadow at the serious veer of conversation.

“Well, since you’re Dave.” The answer is cheeky but his eyes don’t hold the mirth. David finds himself flustered all the same, although he manages to hide it well enough. “Er… to be honest, I don’t really know what’s happening. I sorta do, but I don’t at the same time.” He bites his lip, crossing his arms now in contemplation. “I… you saw me back at the Holy Plain. I was _reaaaally_ out of it.” He holds up his hands as if in mock surrender. “You see, there’s these Remnants inside of me— _a lot_ of them. I’m pretty sure Irina can sense them all.” He gives a wry smile to his younger sibling, but she doesn’t answer. Carrying on as if he expects this, he looks towards David once more then does something that admittedly throws the young Duke aback. Rush approaches him rapidly—which is only two long steps, really—and David sees Torgal move in alarm at the sudden motion but David gives him a staying glance because he does _trust_ Rush. He doesn’t doubt him at all.

When Rush actually grasps his hands and comfortably keeps them in his own, David has to stare. A lot.

He notes that Rush’s hands are warm, calloused in nature. It’s nice, feeling those fingers intertwine with his own, and he makes a mental note to try and do that more often. With this time’s Rush, of course. The other male is _really_ close to him as well, _distractingly_ close and he feels his breaths coming in faster.

“And that was alla them saying that you guys shouldn’t oppose the Conqueror.” Rush is continuing on as if he doesn’t think much of his actions, as if he doesn’t notice the flustered look upon David’s features and the gushing expressions present upon both Emmy’s and Irina’s faces. David himself has a sudden flashback to what his own Rush has told him, about the one before him now apparently stroking his face when he’d been sleeping and he feels even more heat rise in his face.

It’d been Rush all along. He doesn’t really know what to think of that.

And so, he instead focuses on Rush’s voice, the things he is telling him now, though it appears he’s almost finished anyways. However, he doesn’t seem to plan on letting go of him—and is he _stroking_ the exterior of his palm with the pad of his thumb???—anytime soon.

“That wasn’t really me. I mean, it sorta _was_ but I still think I made the right choice in the end. Er, even though they’re angry at me but hey, at least I don’t wear my top like the Conqueror does, right? I don’t have that much of an ego to show off my bare chest.” He finishes with a shrug, eyes fixated upon David’s hands as he continues his absent-minded ministrations. Admittedly, David is a little disappointed that Rush _doesn’t_ leave his uppermost garment undone but he drags himself back to the matter at hand rather than being distracted by fantasies of how Rush looks under those clothes.

Despite Rush’s answer, the Duke finds himself still in the midst of confusion because the other’s words have still been _vague_ and it isn’t enough to go on. What choice is he talking about and who _exactly_ has Rush angered in doing so? However, some parts of it make sense. The Rush he knows wouldn’t support the Conqueror’s goals in any way. David’s brows furrow, and he inspects the other further. Or at least _tries_ to whilst fighting the blush that is threatening to rise. They’re incredibly close right now, after all, and though this isn’t the first time it’s happened, they hadn’t exactly been _holding hands_. He hopes he has a somewhat composed expression, because Blocter has a shit-eating grin upon his face and David knows this’ll come into conversation at some point in the future.

“How did all those Remnants gather inside you? Are they… stuck there?” He doesn’t know if it’s the right word, but Rush nods all the same.

“Mmhm, they’re kinda like…” For a moment, David waits patiently for him to continue before realising that Rush himself has paused, eyes growing slightly distant as his gaze drifts to a spot over David’s shoulder; awkwardly, the Duke wonders if he should try calling to him before there’s a sudden _murmur_ escaping the other’s lips, as if the man is talking to himself, and he feels _alarmed_ at such behaviour. It’s almost like how his own Rush had been behaving when David found him early in the morning, just staring at the Tracking Remnant. He glances towards Irina and there’s an overall worried expression upon youthful features. She catches David’s gaze before nodding, and he leans forward slightly, squeezing the other’s hands.

“Rush…?”

Almost immediately, the man responds, blinking and refocusing on David once more before grinning. The Duke is beginning to suspect it isn’t an exactly _genuine_ expression, but the relief is overwhelming, all the same. “Sorry. They like to talk a lot.” Rush doesn’t elaborate, but David can guess. He has his own Remnant, after all.

“Rush?” Irina steps forward then, looking slightly uncomfortable as if she cannot entirely comprehend the situation but she’s braving it all the same. “What are you doing here, then? Is there something happening in the future?”

“Uh…” Rush’s eyes turn soft upon gazing at his sibling, but the question seems to take him aback. Or rather, he seems unsure of whether to answer that. “Well…” He’s obviously stalling then, and David’s eyes narrow.

“Rush.” He interrupts, his voice short and demanding his attention. The other gives him a guilty look, but he continues nonetheless. He wants to get this out of the way, to confirm his rising suspicions. “Did you come here for my older counterpart? Is he the reason why—?“

He doesn’t even get to finish, because Rush drops his hands suddenly as if they burn him.

There’s a slight shift of his head, as if unable to believe what he’s hearing and he steps back as if to try and distance himself. However, his eyes are still upon David and there is a pain there that is overwhelming _sharp_ and _palpable_ and the Duke suddenly wishes he can take his words back in an attempt to spare Rush from the sudden internal agony he has caused him.

“He’s… _here_?!” The words are a choked whisper and Rush rapidly searches David’s face, seemingly trying to find the slightest gap in the sincerity of his words and of course, he would not find one. “Is that why I’m not…?” A furtive glance is cast around once more, and the Duke suspects he is actually looking for his _younger_ counterpart. He’s surprised the other hasn’t questioned it until now, but he supposes Rush can _guess_ upon learning about David’s older self’s presence.

“Rush?” David slowly steps forward, reaching out for him like the other is a wounded animal. “What’s happening? How can we help?” He finds he’s on edge; whatever his own suspicious may be, he certainly did not expect Rush to be _this_ surprised at the information. Indeed, he seems to have come to this time for an entirely different reason than what David has thought.

Slowly now does Rush shake his head and he takes another step back. “No. No, don’t worry about it.” The way he says those words are fast-paced and strewn with tension. If anything, David has _every_ reason to worry but Rush is backing away a little more, hands raised as if to stop his approach. “Dave. Really.” He says earnestly, his eyes pleading as he looks at him. “Just… just worry about the Conqueror. And Wagram. Or whoever you’re facing now.”

David opens his mouth to answer, to _insist_ upon knowing what the other knows because surely it’ll help _them_ as _well_ in the long run (because the other mentions _Wagram_ and it is clear that he is far more involved in these conspiracies than David has thought and he files such information away to ponder upon _later_ ) but Rush is talking again, loudly and over anything he may choose to say.

“Irina, stay safe.” He tells her, managing a grin, and looks around to the Generals. “It was good catching up with you all, but I gotta run again.”

With the way Rush words it, it sounds as if they’re finishing up a picnic and are planning to meet up sometime later but David knows this is _far_ less casual than how it may be interpreted. And perhaps he’ll not be seeing this Rush in a _long_ time.

When David thinks the other will leave just like that, Rush approaches him once more, and there’s a half-hearted grin on his face and when he steps close to the Duke once more, David realises how much taller Rush has grown. It’s only a few inches, but David has to tilt his head up _very_ slightly to levelly meet his eyes. A touch comes at his cheek—it takes him a brief moment to realise the other’s hand is lingering there and he feels heat rise in his neck because he doesn’t know how to properly _react_ to this.

“Rush?” His voice is thankfully composed. His features do not seem to twitch either to reveal his flustered state, something he is also grateful for. Unfortunately, the other’s next words easily _break_ such composure.

“I’d kiss you but I think my younger self would be a bit annoyed at me for stealing your lip virginity.”

 The words are said so _cheekily_ and David really has to _gape_ now at the utter audacity Rush has for stating this aloud to him, _in front of_ the others _especially_ and he has half a mind to whack him upon the arm. Rush, apparently, is as shameless as ever and instead leans forward to quickly press his lips against the cheek he’d been caressing earlier and David _feels_ the grin spread across his mouth before Rush leans further forward to breathe a few words into the shell of his ear.

“Catch you later, Dave.” The hot air is enough to coax a shudder from David but he manages to squander the bodily reaction, admittedly… _slightly_ aroused from such contact but he reminds himself that this isn’t exactly the right _place_ to feel these things.

There’s a shimmer of viridian, and Rush is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget to leave a comment and/or kudos to show whether you enjoyed reading! ;D ~~it helps my ego~~  
>  thanks so much to the people who have commented/left kudos though!!! i really do appreciate it!! i'm not so sure how to repay other than by posting more chapters which i am currently failing at doing but !!! i hope longer ones will be enough to satiate the hunger during the wait! D:


	10. naoi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have like a super long chapter!! cuz i'm going back to uni next week for summer school gdi lkjlaskfj
> 
> tho i'm super stunned at the amount of kudos this has received tho lkjalskjf lies down lkasjf i didn't think it'd get that many within a chapter but i'm really glad people are enjoying it!!
> 
> also help my headcanons for TLR are showing lkjlkjasf i really hope they don't contradict anything that is canon that i haven't learned about yet omg lkjasfj.

It takes all of David’s willpower not to turn their party around and start looking for this present’s Rush instead.

Perhaps his sudden desire is hasty and ultimately unplanned but the older Rush had actually seemed _panicked_ at the thought of his older self being here which meant that the Rush of this time must be in danger. This is a point he has no trouble pointing out to Torgal when the Sovani brings up such an issue and he quiets immediately.  David is glad they do not try to assure him they still believe in the goodness of his future self; it seems they are as rattled as he is now.

And so, the only one that manages to successfully stop him from abandoning the trip is Irina.

"Rush is there to make sure nothing bad happens." She says this in such a calm and steadying voice that he has to wonder whether she really is the age he has been told. "I know he's stupidly selfless at times, but I know he won't let anything happen to his past self, even if it means confronting you."

 _Even if it means fighting you_. David imagines such words, and they grate at his heart.  Perhaps it is too much for him to jump to such a conclusion immediately but he saw up close the naked, bewildering distress that had shown briefly on the older Rush's face and that does not seem to bode well for their relationship in the future... if there is one to be had.

He has half a mind to snap back at her because he needs _facts_ , not reassurance. He needs to know that his Rush will be safe, that _himself_ in the future will not be at danger to him. However, he holds his tongue because he knows she will respond with _just_ as much heat, endlessly stubborn and he decides he shall save them both the trouble. He knows he needs to reign in his emotions, to think rationally and make the best decisions as a leader right now but... there is a desperate need for Rush to be safe and sound.

Perhaps he will deal with this quickly. They are almost to Undelwalt and it will be a wasted trip otherwise.

“To Undelwalt with haste, then.” David says finally, hardened hues glancing at his Generals and they straighten to attention as one at his command.

They start to move in formation and Emmy comes up to him. “It will be quick, My Lord.” Her words are solemn but he trusts that she will do her utmost to make it so.

“Let’s hope so.” He responds, and they march in silence.

Unfortunately, it will not be as fast as David intends.

* * *

 

They arrive in Undelwalt, but they are told the God Emperor won’t see them until the morn.

David figures this is for the best, for he and his party are looking the worse for wear and despite his worry about everything, there is still the Marquis in him, wishing to represent Athlum well in the presence of someone so renowned across the world. He reminds himself that it will not benefit his people if he is to act rashly and impulsively. He needs to gather his wits, calm himself.

Not to say he can be _completely_ relaxed. No, he still has to do _something_ productive and so he heads immediately for the library; it is only midday, after all, so everyone has plenty of free time till the next day. Pagus and Irina have already gone off to look around Undelwalt, fascinated with the city and David makes sure that they’ll come back to their guest quarters within the castle to regroup and share any thoughts. Blocter has decided to rest up inside the castle, or perhaps he has some other secret agenda up his sleeve that David has no idea about. Either way, he’s stuck with both Emmy and Torgal, ever the silent vigils as they accompany him.

Even so, he finds he wants to be alone right now. While this is not entirely uncommon, it’s not something that is practised considering his title, but he still manages to get both Generals outside to wait for him, or, if they wish to, they can browse the library at their own preference. This satisfies Emmy at least, but Torgal is ever so disgruntled and David _swears_ he can see the tips of furry ears protruding from behind the current shelf he is standing before.

Ah, at least Torgal is _trying_.

He makes sure not to reveal what he’s reading about exactly, however. It is a topic still buried beneath the sand, so to speak, and he finds that there is not much information about the desired subject. Though, it does make sense— _Magick_ is something that seems to be hardly practised. It is a thing of danger, something unknown and _strange_ but… it is _powerful_. David has every intention of looking into the matter, especially if it will benefit Athlum.

He’s not _entirely_ without sagacity: he will abandon the search if it proves to be something he shouldn’t uncover at _all_ , something that will become more harmful than beneficial but at the rate he’s going now, three hours into it, he has uncovered _nothing_ of use.

 _Magick is an art thought long to be lost with the disappearance of the Marshalls_. _It’s origins are unknown but it appears to be a hereditary ability and does not require any focus orb to practise it. With the knowledge of the Marshalls being ones to not need any focus point at all, it is logical to assume that this is why they are able to use Magick with ease and even are the only ones to develop techniques within this rare branch of Arts._

Nothing new. David recalls the visistones Rush had obtained from the Academy, ones he’s shared with both the Marquis and Irina, caught in his excitement of ‘ _finally_ getting new ones’. Before that moment, David had no clue that Rush was actually receiving information from the Academy—he’s doubtful that they give out visistones to strangers on a whim. But then, he supposes that being a Sykes must be something to do with it. He doubts he would have found out about it at all if he weren’t in the same room as Irina at that moment, and he’s not entirely sure what to think about that.

Either way, the information given in this small section of _Mystic Arts: A Comprehensive Guide_ is not very _comprehensive_ at all. There is a little more than a page in Magick before they move onto ‘Methods to Develop your Arts’ and David is about ready to give up for now. That’s the only worthwhile bit of information he’s gotten from this search and though he can go on for a bit longer, the Undelwalt library is not as expansive as he has hoped.

Letting an imperceptible sigh escape him, he looks up. The tips of those furry ears have moved and for a moment David is bewildered that Torgal would leave just like that. However, after a second more of searching to the left he finds there is a certain long silhouette at the end of his aisle. It makes him realize how dark it’s getting now. It seems far too early for it but there must be a good reason for that, he imagines.

Delicately placing the book back in it’s slot, his fingers linger on the spine for a moment longer. It is unfortunate how little information there is on Magick. The only one he can really learn about it from is Wagram, and _that_ is completely out of the equation. Yuniver as well, perhaps, but he seems just as clueless on it if he had requested Rush’s help in finding out more on the subject. Perhaps David can pitch his question to the Sykes and see where that leads him. Marion’s Blessing, he guesses, must be a form of Magick if it is hereditary within the Marshall line. Perhaps Marina will know more about it, though if she is wary then he will not pursue the topic further.

“Wow! So you’re like, totally the Marquis of Athlum, right??”

David barely suppresses his urge to start violently at the voice that intrudes so abruptly on his thoughts. Whirling immediately, he cannot help the tension that flows into his muscles because _how_ has he not sensed this person’s _approach_?

“I am David Nassau.” He says simply, and tries not to be too obvious in observing her choice of attire. They aren’t exactly common in these parts, and she stands out too much from the individuals he has seen around Undelwalt to consider her one of the locals. Perhaps she’s also visiting as well? “Who might you be?”

Her reaction isn’t something he expects, _nor_ prepared for.

“ _Awww_ , Rushie hasn’t talked about me? That’s so lame! I’m pretty sure I’ve told _all_ of my friends about _him_!” She stamps her foot. David finds it slightly hilarious, but manages to stifle the mirth.

“I… apologize?”

She looks at him then, and he can’t tell whether she’s appraising him or giving him a dirty look. “It’s all his fault! Well, it’s probably mine as well since I _totally_ forget to keep on telling him my name but you’ll tell him when you see him, right? He says _soooo_ many things about you, it’s ridiculous! He wouldn’t even notice the different style I did my hair up in in Ghor!”

Now _that_ is new information. Taken aback by the fact that Rush actually talks about him to other people (and really, David should be _used_ to this considering his status, but on a casual, friendly level…?), he doesn’t answer, staring at her with an admittedly dumbfounded expression on his face and he wishes he _did_ say something, because the girl is _giggling_ now and that doesn’t seem to be a good sign.

A hand to her cheek, passing over her mouth in a sly way—he’s suddenly _acutely_ aware that Torgal is listening in on this. “Ooooh, _I_ see now! _Rushie_ and _Dave_ , up a tree! _K-I-S-S-I-N--!_ ”

Groaning aloud, he waves her off frantically and she cuts off only _just_ before the last letter. The others in their aisle are looking at them now, some sending disapproving looks and David wonders whether he should’ve taken her out of this _supposed_ to be quiet area before she gets any more excitable.

It makes sense now, though. He can _definitely_ see Rush and her getting along. It’s strange, though. Rush never _has_ mentioned her. Perhaps once, complaining about a ‘magus-y girl’ swindling him from his money ( _several_ times, if David remembers correctly, and has been constantly confused as to why Rush doesn’t just refuse to give her money in the first place) but he’d never call her by name, which is strange. Rush always tells him about the people he meets in the other cities—even his own, whenever it happens—, people he’s become friends with, the ones that now fight with them. But this girl…?

She _shushes_ him then, as if _he’s_ the one being loud and he feels slightly affronted at the prospect. Before he can even say anything, she’s spilling a whole mess of queries towards him, but _thankfully_ it’s at a respectful level of noise. “So? So?? Gimme the _deets_ , dude! Have you and Rush kissed yet? Are you guys even together? Like, come _on_ , anyone can _totally_ see you two being involved! I can’t believe it took _this_ long for you two to realise something like that! It’s so adorable, I could cry!” She seems like the _opposite_ of wanting to cry right now. “But I might be _waaay_ behind the times, here! I’m not being a total floozy, right? You both have gotten to fourth base, haven’t you! That’s so cute!”

She does a strange victory pose, and her excitement would have been contagious if not for the audience. And even her audacious _suggestion_ , if David has been keeping up with the lingo well, is enough to put him off and make heat rise to his cheeks. Torgal’s looking very hard at them both right now, he can _tell_.

Before he can answer _again_ , she’s rapidly speaking once more. “ _Stink_ , though. I’ve like, run out of money _again_ so maybe you’d like to buy this ultra-awesome ‘Khrynia’ brand visistone from me? It’s got _super_ quality and the specs are out of this ruddy town! The latest technology too, so I’m _sure_ you’ll love it! I mean, you better get your hands on it before anyone in this town does because they’re _soooo_ materialistic sometimes! Only twenty-thousand gold, and _that’s_ a discount!”

Khrynia? Is that her name, perhaps? Either way, her voice is loud once more, and people are staring. One in particular—an elderly man with a stern face—is approaching slowly but surely. Inwardly wondering how he’s gotten himself into such a situation, he debates whether he should actually buy it at _all_ because it seems like, since Rush isn’t here, _David’s_ the one taking his place this time and he opens his mouth to reject but—

‘Khrynia’ is leaning in suddenly, a wicked smile upon her lips and she whispers in such a low tone David thinks he may have misheard.

“It might give you a few futuristic _aaaanssweeerrss~_!”

Ah, that explains a few things.

“Alright then.” He says in a normal, neutral tone and he hears an indignant hiss from Torgal.

“Lord David…!” Perhaps the Sovani thinks he is wasting money away on a whim, pulled in easily by the girl’s marketing but even if his oldest General’s auditory senses are better than his own, they still will have missed the words the girl has whispered to him. He’ll have to explain later, but for now…

He reaches into a nearly invisible pocket within his coat, pulling out a rather large sack of coins and hands it to her. She gawks at the smoothness of his actions, and seems to almost drop the bag when he places it in her hands.

“Ahhhh, O-M-G, you’re the bestest, Daaavey!” She hugs the bag to herself, grinning wildly and David feels warmth spread in his cheeks. The gratification is overwhelming, and perhaps this is one of the reasons why Rush helps her. “Here, here! Treat it well, mmkay?” Holding the bag in one hand, she fishes out a sleek visistone with her other and tosses it to him. Catching it, he’s actually quite surprised at how light and thin it is. The new technology she spoke of, he guesses. His attention swivels back to her once more when she gives a small fist pump. “Thankies, Davey! I’ll catch you later, alrighty? I really gotta dash!” Grinning wildly, she literally _does_ dash off, weaving past him and past _Torgal_ somehow before completely disappearing from sight.

For a moment, he considers following her but she’s already given him _some_ information, if her words are to be correct. When there’s a disgruntled sound from _behind_ him however, he really _does_ wish he’d gone after her because he certainly isn’t willing to take the fall for her loudness _alone_.

_So much for representing Athlum._

A few harsh reprimands later from the master librarian—as well as several _apologies_ iterated by himself—he finally manages to leave. Torgal went before him, considering he never _had_ been a part of the chaos to begin with, and perhaps had tried to keep an eye on the mage girl before she completely disappeared. However, when he’s finally allowed to leave the library, he finds it’s to no avail, judging by the look on Torgal’s face. Emmy is nowhere in sight, but he trusts she’s alright.

“What did she say to you?” The Sovani looks perturbed, and David doesn’t blame him. He’s equal parts disconcerted and eager for new information at the same time himself.

“Shall we find out?” He asks simply.

* * *

 

_What will you do?_

He finds that the voice is strange and should arouse his suspicions, but sleep is ever cumbersome for the weary. He wants to know who the voice is, but he finds himself answering the question instead.

_I… don’t know._

A disapproving hum and he tries again.

_Keep on moving?_

There is the softest whine of sorrow, and the voice goes silent once more.

* * *

 

( _WAKE **MHAC**_ )

There is a _twitch_ at his being. _They_ sense the other’s presence as _he_ approaches and kneels before him, taking a hand smoothly within his own and kissing the exterior of it like before. Lips linger there, gaze shuttered in quiet contemplation, but they do not stray for long as eyes are drawn to their owner after a moment of quietude.

( _HE IS A **T W I S T E D** { ~~BEING~~ } LYING LIAR LYINGUS ~~INGDONOTTRUSTHIM~~_  )

“I apologize.” There is a thin smile spread across David’s lips. “They must be giving you quite a headache.”

Rush finds himself nodding slowly. He doesn’t question where David has been. He doesn’t question whether he’s slept or eaten (perhaps he _has_ but he cannot recall much, his thoughts as _flimsy_ as ever) but he _does_ welcome David’s return.

Despite the airiness of his mind, he finds a query slipping from the fog nonetheless.

 _~~How do you know?~~ _ ~~~~

( _DISGUSTINGCA ~~STHIMAWAY U N W O R T H Y **SPECIMENMITRAHUMAN**~~ _ )

“They misunderstand.” Those handsome features are sad and heavy and Rush wishes he can see him smile more. His question has gone unanswered, but he doubts it has been spoken in the first place. “Though time doesn’t affect them, they still have limited knowledge in quite a few areas.” A mirthless chuckle. “They don’t truly comprehend how Magick can control them so much either.”

( _WHY DID YO ~~U LET HIM IN MHAC HE IS DESTRU~~ CTION **INCARNATE** AN AB ~~OMINATION TO YOUR **RACE {OUR} R A C E**   ~~ _)

David is looking at him, and his features are unreadable. “Rush… perhaps I should have more faith in you. I-I would not normally be like this but your selflessness is… unpredictable at times.” There is the slightest motion towards a smile, but it is dropped in an instant. A hand raises, and Rush feels the tips of coarse fingers glide gently across his temple. It feels nice, and there is the barest inclination to his touch, his breathing growing softer as dark hues slowly shutter to the comfort. He _feels_ the other’s presence, drawing closer and closer until there are soft breaths felt upon his cheek, upon his nose then _lips_ —

No contact comes, and Rush opens his eyes. He notes how close David is, how he can see every feature of his face as finely as he can _smell_ him, pleasant and _warm_ at the same time. He isn’t able to react still, but he feels he’s a little dispirited from the lack of contact.

David must have sensed this, and there is that brief smile again. “I should leave you to my past self. I imagine it’s unfair, no matter how much I want to.” His eyes shift to the side before connecting with Rush’s again. There is a fleeting emotion, but he cannot identify it. “It’s hard not to. You’re as… vibrant as I remember. I can imagine that you’d find that cheesy but....” He shakes his head and bows it.

Strange. The voices have silenced themselves.

Yet, as they sit in the subsequent quietude, with Rush sitting docilely and David kneeling before him with a thumb gently initiating a circular motion upon the exterior of his palm, there is something simple in this moment, something _neat_ and despite the heavy veil of Enthrallment over his being, there’s a strong, _wakeful_ word rising to the surface of Rush’s mind.

 _Mine_.

It’s an unbidden thought and he has no idea whether it is voiced aloud yet there’s a laugh—seemingly _genuine_ and Rush readily _enjoys_ hearing it—from David and he figures it has slipped out anyways. The blond is looking at him now, and the absentminded motion upon his hand has stopped. “I did not peg you as the possessive type.”

And there is sudden movement behind them—an already materializing flash of _green_ that he has not noticed before and the swirl of familiar cloths, rapidly coalescing into _reality,_ billow into existence. David half stands, and Rush looks up immediately—

“You have no idea.”

—and it is as if he gazes into a mirror.

* * *

 

David goes to sleep with the contents of the visistone still at the forefront of his mind, and he wakes with a name upon his tongue.

Swallowing harshly, he sits up and with a bleary mind, he notes how dark it is still. Perhaps it’s the hour just before dawn breaks and for a moment he debates going back to sleep. However, his eyes drift to the sleek visistone on his bedside table and he’s wide awake once more.

_Perhaps I shouldn’t then…_

It is an internal debate still, whether to pursue the topic of Magick since it is powerful, and something that can be ultimately _beneficial_ and he is not shy to pay the price for has he not done so with the Gae Bolg? Has he not sold his soul, essentially, in order to gain more power for his people? His Generals have all offered their opinions on the matter, and he believes their opposition to the practice of Magick may be enough for him to not delve into it any further. Irina had not said much more than a few sentences herself, agreeing with the notion but lapsing into silence once more. He figures that she has much to think about now that she’s been given more information about the Marshalls and the supposed cousins she now has on her mother’s side. Magick itself will almost be like another Remnant, but… he supposes he has his Generals. He has the Gae Bolg still and the power of his men.

His future self, however…

With no one there with him, he supposes he would have made the same decision. He would have delved into Magick if he has lost everyone, if only to desperately protect whoever he had left. By the looks of it, the only one he has left is Rush because David knows he would not have abandoned Athlum without good reason. Yet what about the Gae Bolg? Where exactly _is_ it, in all of this? Perhaps he has unbound it in the future for the chance to learn Magick, but is the trade really worth it? Why is it necessary for him to come back in time in the first place? Perhaps to save Athlum, he imagines, for Rush is well and alive, and has apparently been sent here but even _then_ his reaction to David being in this present as well had startled him. Perhaps David came back to retrieve Rush…?

Groaning, he flops back helplessly on the bed. It is far too complicated for his tastes and he only hopes he will get answers soon pertaining to both the future and the Conqueror. He does not like operating in the dark.

Speaking of which, he gets up once more, deciding to clean up his current quarters and get ready for the day. A meeting with the God Emperor is not an opportunity one of his stature gets often, after all.

* * *

David does not know whether to feel offended or not by the lack of formality that the God Emperor wishes for him to address him with, yet he also hopes that his bafflement does not show up too clearly upon his face. He looks to the side, seeking some guidance from perhaps Rush but then realizes he is not there. _Strange_ how he has forgotten so easily, and there rises that lingering sense of dread about it once more.

Shaking off the perturbation, he manages to go forward with the original plan: gaining information about what the God Emperor has in mind with the Conqueror.

When they are transported to the Sacred Lands however, he finds that the proceedings are going far more awry than he has imagined.

It is not as if he has expected an incredibly reasonable explanation as to why the Conqueror has the God Emperor's blessing, but to be taken here, to this dark place with another Ark to boot underneath Undelwalt... he has to wonder what intricate plan is at work here. Are the Conqueror's origins not Mitran at all?

"I don't understand..." It is the first exclamation to escape his lips upon seeing the blood red throne. Blood red, like the Conqueror's clothes. If his assumptions are correct, perhaps the Conqueror is not a simple Mitra at all. He recalls Rush once asking him something, whether he believed that Remnants can be disguised as Mitra. He can’t recall his answer completely, but he does remember shrugging and alluding to the belief that _anything_ is possible.

 _Now_ , however, he finds that Rush is a Remnant himself, which explains why he has asked in the first place. If the Conqueror turns out to be one as well, then he and Rush may have… the same origins, so to speak. It would make sense—if Marina found Rush in the Sacred Lands, then perhaps someone else has found the Conqueror here as well.

_Such a strangely dark part of the Sacred Lands…_

“The Sacred Lands is incredibly vast.” Pagus says now, awe in his voice. “I did not think that this could be a part of such a beautiful place.”

Emmy shakes her head, and her gaze connects with David. “Why would the God Emperor want us here exactly?”

“I don’t know but… this entire place does remind me of the Conqueror.” He says softly, eyes training on the crimson throne once more.

"Confused, Marquis?"

And the voice is not one he _expects_ because if _he's_ here then the implications...!

His eyes widen then narrow in both shock and alarm, an exclamation already leaving his lips upon acknowledgement of the mage moving steadily from the darkness.

"Wagram!" The mage looks at ease, and David's guard shoots higher than ever. He’s ready to say more, but he feels foreign movement from behind him.

" _Lord_ Wagram."

He looks around immediately and his mouth parts in astonishment upon sighting the God Emperor _himself_ walking forward, acknowledging Wagram like he is... he's...

He remembers the visistone Khrynia left with him, and feels sick.

"So you really are the first God Emperor." David says, stepping forward to face them. He sees Irina step up beside him in his peripheral vision, senses his Generals stand behind him, and already confidence wells within him. A part of him wishes Rush were here with him too, but he tries to put that out of his mind for now.

Wagram doesn't look surprised at his words, and that only supports a hunch that David has harbored since the night before. The mage's next utterance confirms it.

"Things are changing, Marquis. The future may even be no more." The others smirk is quite palpable even in the dimness of the environment.  "Perhaps I should address you as Duke now."

Tan features harden; David has no time for his games.  "What exactly are you scheming?"

"You said that last time as well." Wagram raises his fan to his lips, and the Duke can only imagine the amused smile behind it. Unfortunately, the mage may be more informed of everything than David is, if he too has had dreams of the future. "And I tell you of the Conqueror and what he is. Can you not remember yourself?”

His silence seems to be answer enough, but he carries on with a different query, shifting his position to meet such wordplay. “Am I to understand that you possess the memories of the future?” He sees the God Emperor frown then and he supposes he isn’t too surprised. If the man has not had any encounters with Magick—perhaps the _only_ key thing tying the future and the present together—then he would not have a single clue as to what exactly is going on. In a way, David actually feels sorry for him, but he’s glad that the less people that know of this, the better.

He continues regardless, eyes focused on Wagram’s own. “Yet… you only recall up until you died, correct?” It is a gamble—it will mean that Wagram himself does not know the outcome of the Conqueror and the rest of them, and what exactly has happened to create the future that he himself has come back from.

“I died by your party's hand.” David cannot find it in himself to be surprised—perhaps it is his ego acting up but he imagined that he would have taken down the mage eventually. This… also means that it _is_ the _Conqueror_ that is the _true_ threat here.

However, he fails to detect the _anger_ in Wagram’s voice at first for it is _well_ -disguised but there is a shift in movement and here— _here_ it feels like a second sense; he feels the Magick within Wagram _crawling_ in the air, coalescing _around_ the male and he inadvertently steps in front of Irina, attempting to shield her from whatever attack is coming.

“Believe me, it will not be so simple this time."

He moves forward and David tenses, Mystic Arts sparking within him as he goes to draw his sword and—there’s something _else_ there, _singing_ at the edges of his consciousness, something familiar yet _foreign_ at the same time and it feels almost like the aura that _Wagram_ is pulling to himself—

“Don’t worry. It will.”

Wagram gapes suddenly. David’s world narrows to keen metal stained with blood. Irina inhales sharply in shock behind him and the God Emperor can only stare in horror.

It is as if the Duke himself is holding the sword that is currently piercing the mage’s chest from behind. It is as if he himself is holding Wagram by the shoulder, letting the offending steel linger before pulling it out in a swift motion.

He cannot say he is glad because it isn’t him, since it _is_ at the same time.

“Do you know what happens to those who make a contract with the World and break it by ultimately not dying in the way that the contract has specifically laid out for them?” There is a strange little smile upon his counterpart’s features yet as he watches Wagram fall to his knees, there is a coldness that lingers in stormy hues. David cannot deny that, inwardly, he is scared. However, he doesn’t know whether it is because he fears becoming like this, apparently lacking some sanity (if the visistone holds true), or finding out first-hand what has made his future so dark in the first place.

“The World…?” Irina whispers beside him now, but David cannot break his gaze from himself.

“Y-you…” The mage chokes on his own blood, a hand pressed tightly to his wound. The fan has fallen long ago, steadily becoming marred by the crimson running from the fatal injury to the wrist. Wagram’s face is horrified, and David imagines he knows full well the punishment, whatever it is.

“You have turned your back on the contract long ago. It is only fitting that you’re killed by another.”

David’s already lost with whatever they are talking about; a quick glance to his Generals says they think the same. Yet, there’s also _concern_ there, strangely enough. For his _counterpart_? Can they not see he is as dangerous as Wagram and the Conqueror? Perhaps he’ll need to talk with them later about this. For now…

“Lord Wagram!” The God Emperor starts forward, hands raised as if in an attempt to help but David’s future self looks to him and he freezes. Perhaps not _intentionally_ , for there are tremors that suddenly assault his form. And is it a trick of the light, or are there luminescent shards beginning to detach from the man’s body…?

There is a choked gasp from Irina, and David looks at her in time to see her stepping back in consternation. “He’s…!”

“What?” David asks sharply, urgent to get the answer from her because he currently has _no_ idea what to do in this situation. Is he to confront his future self, find out where Rush is? Or should he be trying to stop him? He rocks on his heels unintentionally, at a crossroads of _how_ to approach these problems. If anything, he should be helping the _God Emperor_ for _he_ is the current authority within this world, he is the _leader_ of leaders yet here— _here_ is his future self blatantly _threatening_ him and David cannot _imagine_ what the consequences of this matter will hold for Athlum.

All the same, it doesn’t seem like he has to wait for an answer from Irina. His counterpart is already speaking once more, and he doesn’t like the chill that such a tone invokes.

“Do you want Harmonium to Collapse?” His voice is soft and strangely lulling. His head tilts the slightest bit, and David only feels disgust. “I can make it happen.” The counterpart’s hand lifts and there is a yellow, spherical light _pouring_ from it. It takes a moment for David to realise it, to _recognize_ it, but there are crystallised marks forming, almost like…

“It can’t be… Marion’s Blessing?” Pagus’ voice is awed behind him, and David doesn’t second-guess himself anymore. He doesn’t think he _can_ with the evidence _forming_ before him, albeit lacking the same markings that appear upon the user’s face.

 **_How_ ** _? How is this **possible**?_

There are _far_ too many questions left unanswered and it doesn’t sit well with David at _all_. This is something beyond his current comprehension, beyond this _time_ and he wonders where it has all gone _haywire_. He’s becoming angry once more—and most of that anger is directed towards _himself_. Perhaps both the future version and the him right _now_ because he is _still_ wracked with indecision, still wracked with not _knowing_ things that may pertain to preventing future tragedies and his eyes narrow. He begins to stride forward, ignoring Torgal’s alarmed call. He will _not_ have this.

However, his gait is stopped short in surprise when a laugh pierces the air.

It is short and bloody and _deranged_. Wagram lies upon the ground now, previously forgotten but he is still alive. _Barely_.

“Oh, I _see_ now.” The words are halted but they are still said. It is clear there is still that obstructing liquid in his throat, for the subsequent utterance sounds _gurgled_. “It is all for _him_. You’re coming here, your _contract_. All for this Ru--!”

“ _Don’t you even **speak** his name!_ ”

The older David is _there_ suddenly, before Wagram and he is _hauling_ the mage bodily off the floor by the collar of his ivory cloths and stormy hues are _vivid_ with anger and rage and something _unspeakable_ but Wagram keeps on talking, seemingly _unafraid_ of his fate now as he looks to David in pure, albeit _shaky_ , amusement.

“Have they all died, Duke Nassau? Did you do it for all of them? For your country?” A mirthless chuckle, as if they’re discussing casual semantics. “Time is not something to be _tampered_ with, especially with _Magick_. You should _know_ the consequences--!”

His voice is cut off. Perhaps it is because his head has been cut off as well.

David stares in morbid fascination as the decapitated body falls to the ground. It’s almost strange to consider the head, now rolling to a stop before him, as something that had been previously attached to a _living_ thing because the act had been so _clean_ , so _soundless_. David is bothered not by the gore, but by the simple fact that he had not even _seen_ his future self kill Wagram. Not a single movement or _sound_ but the aforementioned man is standing straight once more, features clearing to a frighteningly blank expression.

Eyes glance towards his past self’s group, then to David himself before the future Duke of Athlum moves to the God Emperor once more. The man himself is staring at the body of Wagram, and David is surprised to see he only looks sorrowful.

“Now.” His counterpart looks calm now, as if the previous occurrences have not occurred at all. “Where was I?” Golden light starts to coalesce around his hand, and the God Emperor only looks resigned. David’s emotions start to boil once more and he steps forward, hand going to his sword because _he_ shouldn’t be _doing_ this. He’s bringing lives that are not even _related_ to the situation at hand with the suggestion of a Collapse and the God Emperor is not seemingly _opposing_ them anymore—if anything, he’s been _defeated_ , him _and_ Wagram—albeit so _suddenly_ —and David still cannot _comprehend_ the entirety of this _situation_ in it’s _fullest_ because it had not _meant_ to be like this, they had to find out about the _Conqueror_ and what will the God Emperor think _now_ \--?!

“Lord David.”

 _Both_ aforementioned leaders look towards the source, but Torgal only has eyes for the older version, seemingly. He steps forward and for once, David cannot read his expression.

“Do you not think it is time to stop? Your actions will endanger Athlum. You must know this.” The Sovani says this in a strong manner and David thinks that the other may have impaired judgement on this matter. They should act instead for this older version of himself is _dangerous_. He is _insane_ , unwilling to compromise and--!

“My Lord.” Pagus steps forward, features as soft and concerned as whenever anyone close to him is injured. His next words bring comprehension to such a look. “I would suggest not taking any further action, especially when it may strain you. Did you think we would not have noticed your wounds?”

_Wounds?_

David gives a cursory look towards his future self, initially to try and _find_ what Pagus is talking about because this _is_ himself, after all. He should _know_ …

His gaze lingers on his counterpart and is startled to find him slowly releasing tension with each word. The glow starts to disperse, the man half-turning towards the Generals. And… there is something flickering within his eyes. Light?

Unshed tears?

 “I… I cannot…” His voice is shaky. The anger in David starts to fade at the raw _emotion_ coming from his voice now, quite unlike the cold apathy that’d radiated from it before. _Here_ , he is broken. In the face of his lost loved ones, what does it feel like to see them once more, halting his supposed revenge? He had not spoken with them before, had not deigned to acknowledge them and David has been _confused_ because if they are gone, would he not wish to _talk_ to them? But then—maybe it is best _not_ to because in the end, he’ll only lose them again, in a way, whether or not he has achieved his goal.Perhaps David is wrong to judge his future self but…

 _We are our own worst critics_.

Ah. His Generals truly _do_ know him more than he knows himself.

“Young Master…!”

And of course, there is _Blocter_ , impulsively running forward to hug the other male and David tenses because he _still_ doesn’t trust in himself. He cannot help it—he sees his older self as an _enemy_ but he supposes that is not entirely the case with his Generals. So, he tries to step back, tries to not interfere for perhaps this is something his counterpart _needs_ to function more _reasonably_.

“Blocter…” The other David’s voice is muffled, but arms rise to hesitantly hug the Yama back. However, the embrace does not last long before he gently pushes him away, eyes looking anywhere _but_ his Generals.

Emmy doesn’t seem to take this. Striding forward, she grasps him by the shoulders, eyes intense as she regards him with the softest smile. “ _Please_ , Lord David. Let us _help_ you.”

For a moment, he looks as if he will take the offer. He seems visibly torn, as much as David himself had been earlier on what to do. Weathered features hesitate once; they seem to waver and _almost_ break but just as quickly, the shield is back up. His visage is closed once more and already sensing it, Emmy is dismayed.

 _Enough is enough_.

David cannot help it. He steps forward with all the authority and grace in his years and faces his counterpart squarely, intent on getting _answers_. This situation is _far_ from being resolved and it seems as if his future self is only making things more complicated.

“Where is Rush?” He is only one of the _many_ concerns upon David’s mind but right now, he feels he has to ensure his safety first. If his counterpart is injured, has Rush tried to escape? Had he broken free from the enchantment put upon him? His anger is returning despite his recent epiphany, but only perhaps it is because he had made such a choice that betrayed the trust of someone he considers dear to him.

The other blond looks at him now, and David cannot recognize any of himself in him. He wonders briefly what the Generals see. All the same, it only takes a small moment for him to answer, and the answer itself startles him. “He is back safely in Athlum, I imagine.”

David stares. Is it really that _simple_? He cannot believe it _entirely_.

“You must be joking.” He says, a brow arched to further illustrate his incredulity.

“It is only a guess.” The other finally relents, the slightest shrug given. His gaze flicks to the side, to Irina, before connecting with his past self’s again. He seems about ready to bolt again, just as abruptly as last time. David doubts he can get away before Emmy tries to appeal to him again, though: she looks about ready to. Then again, _all_ of his Generals do.

And then—Irina seems to guess something the rest of them _don’t_.

She starts forward then. He’s not sure what visual clue she’s seen, but her next words are astounding, if not disturbing to hear. “Did… did Rush hurt you?” She shakes her head, hastily correcting herself. “The older Rush… your Rush, I mean.” Her tone is firm yet somehow also _shaky_ , as if she herself cannot believe the words coming out of her mouth.

 _He probably deserved it_.

The sudden thought is no surprise—it is a line of thinking that David ultimately ignores, a _nature_ of thinking that he wishes he does not have for it is born out of his _own_ childishness, something he should have rid himself of long ago despite his ascension to Marquis status, both in title _and_ in mind. It is informal and unfit, but then—

“I deserved it.” The older blond says softly. Like minds, he supposes, but they _are_ the same person, after all: he should not be so taken aback. Then his counterpart’s right hand twitches, and David’s gaze is immediately drawn to it. Unnoticed before, it is a long scar that seems to have been hastily healed; the skin is marred in an ugly fashion, right around to the exterior so he can only imagine that it must be worse on the palm. David reprimands himself mentally to not have seen it before. More than likely there are other wounds, by the way the other holds himself: more than likely there is something wrong with his right knee and shoulder. Perhaps it may be _David’s_ judgement that is impaired.

“It’s not… his fault. I’d been too hasty and… the Remnants’ reaction is something I should have expected.” There is a sharp exhale from his counterpart, and he looks to the ground in self-disgust. “I’ve caused him more suffering.”

“Lord David…” Emmy takes a step forward, her expression earnest. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Sorrowful eyes turn to her, and they soften the slightest bit. He’s fond of Emmy and it shows, and that is something David can understand.

“I chose the world over him once.” It is a confession, if anything else, and that seems to be the limit for the information he will give. Intricate, circular markings appear beneath him, fading in from non-existence and they glow with an incandescent light, his form becoming more of a _mirage_ with each passing second and—

“I will not make the same mistake twice.”

—He vanishes.

* * *

 

_“So, like, when you get this, I realllly have to warn you against what you’re thinking right now! It **totally** won’t benefit you at all even if you think it will but I know you. I **remember** you._

_I’ve been receiving these really weird dreams lately and I know it’s probably **all** because of you and your super flimsy powers! And maybe you’re not that same nerd from the future that does that kinda stuff so you’ll listen to my awesome advice right? Better late than never, after all! Anyway, I’m totally getting off topic! I just wanted to let you know of a few things so lemme tell you a little bedtime story first. You’ll love it, trust me! _

_Sooooo, once upon a time there was this **totally** psycho dude who wanted to marry this **really** awesome lady for her powers, right? This lady’s name was Marion Marshall and that dude went by Wagram_ _, first God Emperor, then Imperator and all that jazz but! He was all like **slobbering** over her power because she had awesome control over Magick and not a lotta peeps could do it at the time. I mean, not a lotta peeps can do it even now but Waggy was all over it like a really big buzz kill! Especially Marion’s Blessing, with the whole binding and unbinding Remnants shebang._

_So like, they fell in love and got jiggy and eventually got married which was totally **rank** in my opinion, but apparently Marion **really** loved him, enough to teach him all sortsa stuff about Magick cuz he was all, like, **super** insistent about it. And of course Magick is something you should be naturally good at—like, if you haven’t inherited it then you’ll find it **super** hard or something or won’t even be able to progress in it at all which is why no one today has tried it but! Somehow **Waggy** was able to do it—there wasn’t much info about that and it’s **pree** shady to me—but after a while he went a little cuckoo and **totally** went aggro and did some **really** ratchet things to Marion that **really** wasn’t cool so, like, she decided to go into hiding! Well, she broke up with him **first** and **then** went into hiding and started her own family and all but… the stories aren’t **that** clear but she **may** have had a little kiddie with him which would be **totally** gross but other legends say that she met someone **else** and did the do with them. But like, that isn’t really important, right?_

_What **is** important is that there were essentially two remaining, **super** important branches to the Marshall clan: there’s Irina’s family, who’s inherited the majority of Marion’s Magick because yanno, the girls are **waaay** better at controlling Magick than the guys are and well, like… there’s **my** family who branches off from a son or grandson, or something or other so the hereditary Magick is a liiiitle bit less in me than it is with cutie Irina! _

_Soooo, I guess you can say me and Irina and Rushie are, like, super distant cousins from another mother! Something along those lines! Or, well, me and **Irina** are but Rushie is still an honorary cuzzie of sorts!_

_What I’m trying to say now, Davey, is that Magick doesn’t really sit **well** with men. I mean, it sounds strange, right? Buuut I really hope you’re listening, Davey! Because you’ve met Waggy and how he’s all cray-cray in the head and you’ve seen that weird right eye of his, right? He probably got cursed at some point and it **reeks** of Magick. I won’t be surprised if I find out it’s a backfired spell! So… I don’t want that same thing happening to you, alright? _

_As much as Remnants are a **huge** strain on the soul, Magick will be an even **huger** strain on you and I don’t want the future to repeat itself, if my dreams are true._

_So, like, totally listen to me! Don’t be a tool, okay, Davey? I’ll catch you later!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i sincerely hope i didn't contradict myself omfg kjklsjf either way don't forget to leave kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed this! also lemme know what your thoughts are!! it makes me happy knowing what my readers think! lkajsf
> 
> a huge thank you to the people who have left kudos!!! ahhh if i could send food i'd do it in a heartbeat omg kljlkasjf but but!! special thanks to Kweenie for reading through my chapters for any typos and Lety for sharing their thoughts on almost every chapter!! i really appreciate it juwoiejoije


	11. deich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god after a month-ish i present you all this lkjasklfj i hope y'all enjoy! though this is just a downtime chapter soo aslkjflkasjf hAVE FUN WITH some fluff omg lkjasf

_Do you remember now?_ The voice is stern now.

_I…_

_Do you?_

He decides to answer truthfully.

 _No_.

* * *

 

Rush wakes suddenly.

It’s not the drowsy kind of awakening, where the Sykes will ask for maybe a few more hours before getting up even as Emmy’s trying to haul him out of bed. It’s not even like the sudden alertness instead where he’s up and about within less than a few minutes, ready to kick few tails.

No, he wakes as if he’s been sleeping for a very long time, and he cannot help but stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, attempting to orientate himself.

And, slowly, he remembers.

He sits up immediately, taking in his surroundings with enlightened fervour, knowing _now_ what context he lay in—for he recalls _David_ , so mature and _smooth_ and Rush unmoving before him and then _himself_ — _older_ and strangely _glowing_ —and then there’d been a clash of both viridian and _gold_ and he wonders what’d _happened_ , in the _aftermath_ — and… and…

“Are you well, Rush?”

He jumps visibly at the sudden query, not entirely expecting it and dark hues swivel to greet grey. Dave’s standing there, by the window, and it’s _his_ Dave, not the older counterpart. Rush honestly doesn’t know what to say to a statement, still a bit dumbfounded by the previous events and perhaps the other must have seen something in his eyes, for Dave’s own gaze turns sorrowful and _regretful_.

“I apologize, Rush.” David approaches his side, and his words almost seem like déjà vu. “I don’t forgive myself for treating you in such a way, even if it may be in the future. I…”

“Oh, no way!” Rush intercedes quickly. He doesn’t want the other to feel heavy over this at _all_. Dave looks visibly startled by his sudden exclamation, and he continues immediately. “It’s cool! I mean... it’s a bit weird with the whole… uh…” Kidnapping as _well_ as being enthralled and _then_ subsequently being treated like he’s someone… _incredibly_ special—Rush trusts Dave to have a good reason for it all, even if he hadn’t been asked beforehand. Rush tries to continue. “And with the, uhm…” Whole hand kissing and kneeling then _basically confessing his love_ and… just _woah_. He’s still floored over that. _And_ he’s still not even sure _how_ to react, now that he isn’t so madly _enthralled_ with him.

“A-anyway, you probably had a pretty good reason why you did all that.” He decides to just finish it, unable to help a slight pink hue upon his cheeks. Just thinking about it had him all nervous, and he’s not entirely sure how to act around Dave anymore.

_Really, though, should you be nervous? After all, you like him back, right?_

“Nonsense.” Dave doesn’t seem like he’s letting go of this at all, and Rush deflates. “I _enthralled_ you, Rush. Taking away your will is not something I would ever do, even with good reason. I cannot forgive my future self for doing that to you.”

Well, there’s a _really_ good reason, actually. One that Dave should probably know himself. One that Rush has trouble saying aloud, least he brings his current awkwardness to the stage. He tries to, anyways.

“But you, er….” He coughs, the words stuck in his throat; to say _that_ sorta thing aloud is… _daunting_. Rush remembers not really having this much trouble back in Eulam. Dave seems to get it though, and his demeanour breaks slightly. Rush is a little glad for that, because he really doesn’t know sometimes what the guy feels.

Dave looks away then, as if attempting to regain composure. “Yes, well…” He starts lightly, and Rush suddenly fears he may jumped to conclusions _far_ too soon. Maybe ‘love’ meant something else? Maybe David just really, _really_ appreciated him as a friend and- and Rush can be okay with that. He can learn to be!

He just wishes that sinking feeling in his stomach will go away once he does.

When he shifts out of the blankets, legs swinging over the side of the bed, he opens his mouth to change the subject—because the silence is getting _incredibly_ hard to bear—but then Dave suddenly looks at him again, and he can’t identify the emotions within his gaze. Or, maybe he _can_ because the words suddenly die in his throat. Dave takes a step forward, and Rush freezes in place, queries haltingly rising to the forefront of his mind when Dave is now a mere foot away from him.

Rush makes to look up, but the other is suddenly _kneeling_ before him and, confused and slightly _hoping_ , his gaze follows the older male’s movements.

“Rush.” Dave begins again, looking him straight in the eye. He’s at eye level now, and is _incredibly_ close now that he’s on one knee. Is it just Rush though, or are his features darkening with the slightest _blush_? He figures he’s just imagining it, and wishes his pounding heart would shut up for a minute so he can hear Dave clearer. “With your permission, may I…?”

Permission? _Permission_?! Heck _yes_ ; does he really have to ask that? For this of all things? At least, Rush _hopes_ it’s the thing he’s thinking of because now—now Dave’s drawing a little closer, head tilting up slightly to keep in line with him, and Rush’s eyes only get wider. His words catch in his throat, and he’s suddenly hyper aware of how _nice_ David smells right now—almost like cinnamon pastry, as if he’d had some before coming here and Rush doesn’t doubt that possibility—and how _not_ nice he himself must smell. How long has it been since he’d bathed? He almost has the temptation to sniff his armpit, but he feels it might be a bit _rude_ to do, even if he feels like he’s indirectly offending David with his stench.

There’s a moment of hesitation on the other’s end, however, and Rush suddenly finds himself watching Dave’s lips. They’re pretty. They look tender, well looked after, and here was Rush with his own slightly chapped lips. He wonders whether Dave would mind him running off for a few seconds just to apply some balm or something so that… so that _whatever_ Dave is about to do, he’ll enjoy it.

“Dave?” He asks softly instead, questioning. They’re very close now. Rush is afraid to even _breathe_ least it chases away the other.

Dave is looking somewhere other than his eyes. Rush realizes with surprise that he’s probably eyeing his own lips as well. “… May I?” He inquires, his gaze moving to catch Rush’s own once more. Those grey eyes only increase in intensity, _smouldering_ in nature and Rush feels a slight shiver run down his spine. It’s… admittedly kinda _hot_ , seeing Dave look at him like that.

Dave is just really, _really_ amazing.

He doesn’t even answer the other’s query. Instead, he does his own thing.

Leaning forward, he immediately captures those perfect lips with his own imperfect ones. Maybe Dave saw this coming, maybe he saw this as Rush giving permission, but whatever it is, Rush is glad that he feels the answering pressure, a toned extremity coiling around his waist but the position is _awkward_ slightly and before Rush can _fully_ enjoy the kiss, before he can fully _immerse_ himself into the feeling of it, Dave abruptly pulls back, eyes wide and staring at Rush with naked vulnerability to his current emotions.

Dave seems surprised. As well as _happy_ , maybe. Rush doesn’t doubt he looks the same, but he’s trying to breathe, and figures that he must seem flustered. Maybe the look on Dave’s face is his version of flustered. Whatever it is, Rush still finds it attractive.

The other blinks and stands suddenly, throwing Rush into confusion. His eyes follow Dave’s movements apprehensively. Had it been bad? Had Dave already found him to be a bad kisser without even really _kissing_ him? If the other is that good, then _damn_ Dave really _is_ amazing and Rush wishes suddenly that he’d had excused himself if only to brush his teeth, bathe a little, maybe even spray a bit of cologne on himself so as to not disgust Dave and then maybe it wouldn’t result in _this_ , Dave abruptly ending the kiss, Dave standing up to move away, Dave now… climbing onto the _bed_ with him—?

“D-Dave—?” He asks aloud, shock apparent in his features. However, seeing that he’s only moving to sit beside him— _very closely,_ in fact—his earlier worries are erased. “Shouldn’t you take me out on a date first before landing fourth base with me?” He says instead, gaining composure rapidly as a slight smirk forming on his face. However, it’s admittedly dashed aside in surprise when Dave looks at him and answers.

“I intend to quite soon, actually.” The other is so _smooth_ in his response that Rush finds himself immediately looking forward to such an occasion. He hasn’t been on a date in _ages_ and if it’s with David, he’s sure it’ll be _awesome_ and he’s already bouncing around in his head at the thought of it. He really _cannot_ wait to spend more time with him. He notices then a smile playing on Dave’s lips. Rush has always liked his smile, but being this close to him now, he can appreciate it even more.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now, if you don’t mind.” Rush breathes; he really can’t help it. Dave’s just too gorgeous for words.

Dave looks a little sceptical at his words for some reason, and he wonders what exactly has invoked _that_ reaction, out of all things, but then the other suddenly leans in and kisses _him_ and the motion is so fast and _smooth_ that Rush is a little disorientated until he manages to focus on those warm lips pressed against his own once more, eye shuttering in pure _contentment_. Well, he’d intended to initiate it _himself_ but he supposes this is fair, considering Rush had stolen Dave’s moment _before_.

Either way, he’s just ecstatic that this is happening at _all_.

There's an arm wrapping around his waist now, and he _eagerly_ moves into the hold, responding in kind with his own extremities hesitantly snaking in between Dave's torso and elbows and a muffled _groan_ escapes him, _wishing_ for more _contact_ , more of Dave's _warmth_ and _strength_ and he can readily _feel_ toned muscles _shift_ against him, more _defined_ than his own because of their different upbringing and he _struggles_ to suck in breath through his nose for he doesn't _want_ to _separate_ from Dave,  he wants to stay _with_ him and _by_ him and another noise of _need_ reverberates from his chest.

_Dave, I…_

He opens his eyes, wishing to see those incredibly _smooth_ features, the mature and, ah, _beautiful_ visage so he can take this _in_ , take it _all_ in, that it’s happening at _all_ and—!

_Can you--?_

A pause.

_Remember, won’t you? It’ll help you so—_

_\--try to focus. Concentrate._

_It won’t take you._

The voice is _desperate_ this time, so desperate that he _listens_ , struggling to _surface_ because there is something just _bubbling_ beneath him, eager to _consume_ and _overwhelm_ and—!

He wakes suddenly.

_What…?_

He's disorientated, and _that's_ an understatement. He turns his head on the pillow, and tries to sit up briefly before flopping back down again at the sudden dizziness, the dryness in his mouth. Breathing deeply, he clenches and unclenches his hands.

Had that been a dream? He feels sluggish, and his mouth tingles from where it'd been pressed against David's lips, and various parts of his body also throb strangely. It'd been far too vivid for just imagination, mostly because he had _really_ been engrossed in such a reality and to wake up is... well, _more_ than a little disappointing.

“Rush?”

Eyes widen immediately as he sits up in the bed, startled. Almost wildly, his gaze finds David standing by the window, his grey hues surprised and worried, fixated upon Rush. Lips parting slightly, he has half a mind to ask him what just happened but then realises he probably really _was_ dreaming. Though, his dream _did_ start the same way as this, almost. He wonders if this’ll end the same way as _well_ , getting hot and _heated_ and…

On that note, dark hues immediately avert down to his lap. _Very_ luckily, he isn’t pitching a tent so he guesses he can _try_ to act more relaxed. Maybe… maybe steer it _towards_ his dream’s directions ‘cause… heh…

Damn. Maybe he’s been enthralled for far too long, because there’s _several_ dirty thoughts being conjured to the forefront of his mind and not _one_ of them has he thought of very recently, if at _all_. He resists the urge to bang his head against the headboard. What would David say if he knew what Rush is currently thinking? They can’t really… _do_ that sorta stuff, not with…

“Morning.” He decides to say instead, casting a grin at David. There’s a small frown upon the other’s brows, and he feels more than a little apprehensive now because how exactly will he react? To _what_ , he isn’t sure, but he’s still… _edgy_ all the same.

“Rush…” The tone’s a little lower now, and Rush feels his stomach drop at the nearing-crestfallen expression upon David’s face. Oh, man, he’s done something _really_ wrong, he assumes, because David’s now looking at him like—like he’s some _weirdo_ and Rush will most _likely_ have to move away and probably be a hermit for the rest of his life because he’s probably been doing really dumb things while _enthralled_ that he can’t even _remember_ and—!

“I apologize.”

He’s almost forgotten he hasn’t actually been through this with David in _reality_.

David approaches him, grey hues intent upon his own with remorse shining clearly within them. Fists are clenched by his sides and his overall stature is incredibly _stiff_ and Rush beats himself up for mistaking _that_ as David placing all the blame on him. He should know the other wouldn’t do that, because all that blame will probably be instead on _himself_. Rush wishes that his initial assumptions were correct, if only to prevent that.

“My… future self enthralled you, took you against your _will_ without consulting you first.” Those fair lips thin in aggravation and Rush has no doubt that the other is _very_ angry at his counterpart right now. “I wouldn’t… I would _never_ do that…” He seems to struggle with his words, and that’s something Rush doesn’t see at _all_ with the Marquis.

“Dave…” Rush stands, because he finds that the apology itself doesn’t need to be said, not when his own _imagination_ has been supplying it for him (to which he feels guilty about—he doesn’t _mean_ to be self-centred in such a way), but his knees feel wobbly already. Unsurprisingly, because he can vaguely remember hardly _moving_ from one spot for a few days so he suspects _that’s_ why he’s so unstable. He shouldn’t be surprised, but what he _is_ surprised at is David’s sudden movement towards him, as if to catch him if he fell and… Rush honestly doesn’t know how to take that. It’d been minute but… the gesture had been there, and he felt _touched_ , if anything else.

“I can’t imagine the effect of enthrallment if it’s been placed upon someone as long as it has you.” David is now saying tersely, and there’s a motion towards Rush sitting back on the back, which he does almost immediately considering his jelly legs. “You should have more rest, if possible.”

Rush gives a disgruntled grumble, obviously unwilling to do so and stubbornly remains sitting up. Opening his mouth, he starts to protest the very _likely_ thoughts currently going through David’s head but then—

“Do you… remember anything?”

David speaks before he has a chance to, and he lapses into a brief silence. The question itself isn’t a surprise, but Rush finds himself taken aback all the same. His mouth opens, closes. He’s hesitant to really _say_ anything, because of the… _things_ that have happened but… it’s common to lose memories once someone’s been enthralled. It’s common to… not be fully aware of what you’re _doing_ but…

 _~~“You have no idea~~ _ ~~.”~~

“Not really.” He says, a frown now creasing his brows. He has the feeling that the information and _memories_ are just _dancing_ out of his grip and he can _almost_ grasp them. Either way, there are _some_ wisps coming back to him both in clumps or in slithers and all he can do really is _wait_. Unfortunately, he never really _did_ like waiting and so he tries to strain his mind, attempting to search futilely for it all. However, this is _definitely_ trailing from the path his dream went, and he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Still, at least he _knows_ this time that this is reality. They’re keeping way more on track than Rush really desires it to.

However, he notes David’s sudden disquiet, and he pauses, looking up to see that the other has turned away. He doesn’t know how long he stares, wondering whether he should say something, but he looks down again quickly upon noticing the other start to shift towards him once more.

“I’m sorry.” David whispers to him, and it breaks his heart.

“Dave, it’s alright.” He finally says quietly, and really wishes David will take _that_ in especially. He forgives him, even if he won’t forgive himself. “I mean… this whole situation is just… really _weird_ but… it’s for a good reason, you coming back, isn’t it?”

Eyes avert up to David, and sees that he’s looking away from him. Rush begins to reach up, to tug on his arm, but quickly stops. The world tilts, and there’s a _barrage_ suddenly, one of _images_ and they flood to the forefront of his mind ever so _eagerly_.

_“If you wanna keep on staring, you might need a visistone.” A smile, but it quickly fades upon perceiving the stricken expression upon David’s face. Rush’s own softens, and he steps forward, hands reaching out to grasp the Duke’s own gently. “I’m here, Dave.”_

_“Rush…” The blond looks at him as if he has been gone a long time. Lips are parted, eyes shining faintly with gathering…_ tears _before they avert, as if ashamed._

He falters, head shifting to the side to try and orientate himself. Wisps of memory are coming back _now_ but—

“I don’t know anymore.” David says softly, and his eyes are too far away to perceive the Sykes’ own pause.

 _“You’re alive You’re really_ alive _.” Dave says softly, and his gaze watches the newcomer’s hands upon his own, gently playing with each individual finger absentmindedly. “I saw you before…” The motions stop._

_“You saw me?”_

Rush inhales sharply, leaning over on the bed. He hears David move over immediately, the soft footfalls pausing beside him, a hand grasping his shoulder. “Rush? What’s wrong?”

He gives a short grunt in response, a splitting migraine already forming from the influx of… _images_ and sounds and—there’s a short well of _dread_ there as well, just brooding beneath the surface of his conscious and he clenches his fists.

“I’m sorry.” He hears the incredibly sincere and remorseful apology _again_ from the Marquis, and wishes to assure him that it’s okay—because David didn’t _mean_ to do this, he _knows_ and so automatically, everything is _forgiven_. Before he can begin to voice this however, he’s swept away once more.

_Rush looks at him then, horror etched upon his face as if the very words are poison. “You weren’t supposed to… is that why you’re here?”_

_A silent nod. Rush lets go of him altogether then, stepping back in what seems to be confusion._

_“But how…? I wasn’t—I wasn’t_ anywhere _. I wasn’t any_ thing _when…”_

 _“Magick.” Dave says wryly, eyes searching for Rush’s once more. His tone becomes grave once more. “After you_ _..._ _disappeared—after_ all _the Remnants disappeared, we still had_ _monsters to fend off. Though most lost their hostility, some still fought against the change. In response, the majority of the population turned to mastering the arts. I… I decided to go even further.”_

_“Athlum is everything to you.” There’s the barest hint of a fond smile upon Rush’s face. “I’m not surprised, I guess.”_

_“You are everything to me as well.” The words are said softly, but the other catches it well enough, and the shock spreads. Dave takes a step forward towards Rush, and grasps those empty hands, squeezing them gently. “The number of monster attacks has declined since the Remnants disappeared. The Academy had been branching out into new technologies to replace the functions that the Remnants had provided for the people, and most have been far more beneficial than anyone could have hoped._ _Your_ _decision was good, Rush.” There is a positive tilt to his lips. “It was good for everyone, even if they didn’t see it at first.”_

“Did I…?” Rush speaks aloud softly, processing the words bit by bit. By the sounds of it, he made a decision that affected the entire world and… and by David’s gaze and sorrowful words, he hadn’t been around to see it.

The David now is silent. Rush wonders whether he’s already left, but as soon as he lifts his head, David is there next to him, sitting by him supportively. He hadn’t noticed before, but coarse digits clutch his own. It felt… _nice_. A far cry from the dream that he’d had about them, but it was enough. Whatever David decides to do, it’d probably always be enough.

Subconsciously, he leans into the figure beside him, exhaustion readily creeping up on him once more despite his previous rest.

“Enthrallment isn’t something anyone can shrug off, especially for that long.” A soft murmur even as Rush swims on the edges of consciousness and he feels a lean extremity gently curling around his waist. At the motion, more and more of his weight relents against David’s form, and Rush cannot help his head drooping, eyes shutting without resistance. He smells cinnamon and pastry and the musk of expensive Athlumian cologne. It’s nice and… lulling…

“Rest, Rush.” His voice is soft, gentle, and carries him to sleep.

_“Let’s go back then, Dave.” His voice is nearing a sudden desperation, and his grip transfers to the Duke’s forearm. “You’ve… done everything you can and—“_

_“It’s not enough.” Those eyes are ever so tired yet so_ determined _when they meet Rush’s own. “You know it isn’t.”_

 _Rush hesitates, but doesn’t relent. “Please, Dave. Don’t keep on doing this—you_ know _what’ll happen! Why…” He reaches forward then, grasping the other’s arm with desperation starting to show in his eyes. “_ Why _are you still_ here _?”_

_"You know why." Dave says quietly._

_The other doesn't seem like he knows what to say for the next moment, mouth opening then closing as if the thought that arises isn't enough. Apparently the guess harboured in answer to David’s words immobilizes him at the truth of such a notion, and he can’t seem to say anything in response._

_Dave gets it. A hollow smile crosses his lips. “Let me do this.”_

_“You don’t owe me.” Rush’s response is just as hollow._

_A laugh. A yellow light begins to flow gently from the palm of a rising hand, the markings forming spherically growing familiar the more they materialize._

_“I owe you everything, Rush.”_

_~~( **WORM** )~~ _

_Dave’s eyes widen then, and Rush’s body_ jerks _._

 _ ~~( **LYING DESPIC** AB~~LE WOULD YOU TR **UST THIS CON** TRACTED SOUL ? THIS W **ORTH ~~LESS~~**_ **~~MIT~~ ** ~~RA _, THE WORLD’S **D**_~~ **_OG_ ** _, THE ENEMY, THE **E N E M Y** KILL ~~ANNIHILATE~~ DO YOUR **DU** — )_

Forceful _viridian, remorseful_ gold _and that is all he can_ see _through the sudden flurry; a cry of pain the_ whispers-upon- _screams_ of _fury_ and then there is gleaming _bronze_ , a tier of _emotion_ before he feels his form _hurled_ into--!

Rush wakes for the third time in a row, and he feels _warm_.

It takes a moment for him to orientate himself once _again_ and he wrinkles his nose, attempting to open eyes crusted down by sleepy dust but when that proves futile for the moment, he decides instead to note his slowly growing awareness of his position and environment.

“—orer’s decision. It’s not something I wish to adhere to, but…”

He makes cursory check, and finds all his limbs attached. Or, rather, all sprawled out haphazardly… which he can _sorta_ tell judging by minute movements and he’s _really_ comfortable, which is somewhat why he _refuses_ to fully move. He has a somewhat hard, yet _warm_ pillow, and he turns his head into the strangely nice-smelling fabric. Earthy… _cinnamon-y_. Something he’s used to, though not on a bed.

“Do you really have to, though? This isn’t something we can sit out, right?”

“Currently, we cannot do anything. Though, with the warning issued I doubt the Conqueror will sit still for too long. Until then, all we can do is wait.”

_The Conqueror?_

The meaning of the words that has haphazardly flown into one ear and out the other suddenly comes _back_ and registers and his eyes fly open.

He winces at first, because it feels like he just wrenched apart a particularly nasty, melted candy wrapper (with his _eyes_ )—topped with chocolate flakes to boot (though he guesses the stuff on his eyes aren’t as sweet;  he doesn’t really wanna know)—but then his eyes focus and… and is that the _bottom_ of David’s _chin_?

At first, Rush can’t help admiring the angle he has. Because, well, who else can get a look at the guy like _this_ and get away with it? He has a nice view on the other’s neck as well, nice and smooth and taut and… just generally _nice_. But then he realizes what he must be _doing_ to _be_ having this kinda angle on David and he admittedly denies (in his mind) the subsequent, high-pitched _yelp_ that comes out of his mouth when the Marquis suddenly looks down at him.

Rush is suddenly cognizant of how _close_ they are and it doesn’t take long for him to figure out that he’s actually _lying on David’s lap_ and probably _has_ been for the past few minutes. Or hours. However long he’s been knocked out for.

“Rush.” David greets, relief clear in his tone. “You’re awake.”

Rush finds it a bit weird how he doesn’t seem _too_ bothered at the fact that _Rush is still lying on his lap_ (or, at least, his _head_ is) but he’s also doing mini jumps for joy in his head, unable to help the giddiness at the current situation. Maybe he’s a bit lame for being _this_ happy over something so small but no matter _how_ small this gesture _has_ to mean something, right? _Right_? Besides, the last thing he remembers is basically passing out on the guy, and David doesn’t seem to think it fit to just lay him on the bed all by his lonesome. Apparently, he has to comfortably situate Rush on his lap _too_.

Woah. If Rush turns his head the right way, then…

_Okay, okay, gotta snap out of it—_

He pauses. Wait a minute.

He struggles to sit up, annoyed at the slight weakness in his limbs (which are still haphazardly sprawled, embarrassingly enough) and with the aid of a firm hand against his back— _David_ , Rush thinks gratefully—he manages to shift around enough (he notes a previously unnoticed _touch_ lingering on his left forearm which now retreats, regretfully) to sit side-by-side with the Marquis. Now that his only view isn’t the ceiling and David’s face, he sees Irina standing by the window, much like how David had been before.

She’s smiling now, approaching eagerly and throwing her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re alright!”

It’s a bit of an awkward position, but Rush manages it, standing instead and pulling her close. After everything, he’s glad _she’s_ safe.

“Wait, so…” Rush retreats momentarily, looking to David and now Irina as she too pulls back. “Uh, I dunno whether I was dreaming it but…” He’s not so sure _what’s_ real anymore. He doesn’t even know if he’s even _awake_ right now. “Did I wake up before and make ou—er,” _Irina’s here Irina’s here Irina’s here_. He clears his throat, and the other two give him confused looks. “I-I mean, did I pass out again…? I feel like I’ve been dreaming a lot.” He admits, a hand rising to the back of his head once more as he flops down onto the bed.

“Perhaps a side-effect. However, you did wake up before.” David tells him, his expression faltering. Rush immediately regrets his question though can’t voice his opinion when the other suddenly stands, hands clasped behind his back. He doesn’t turn to look at Rush, and the Sykes quietly laments the loss of warmth by his side. “Did you have a good sleep?” He asks carefully, partially looking back at him.

Surprised at the sudden check-up (though he _shouldn’t_ be because, really, David _does_ often ask him about himself), Rush straightens a little, exchanging a look with Irina. “It was… pretty cool?” He’s uncertain whether that’s the _right_ answer, because he stills feels a little drowsy and it’s a _weird_ kinda drowsy, like he’s still caught in a dream world and it’s… hard to even _explain_.

But then—he remembers _other_ things, things he has recalled and opens his mouth to go on yet… the _revelation_ that’d come to him is something he doesn’t know he should even _share._ He’s still having trouble coming to terms with it himself but—he supposes he shouldn’t be _too_ floored by it, because… because giving his _life_ to keep safe everyone and everything he considers precious is something he will do over and _over_ again without fail, without a _single_ regret in mind.

_Is that why… older Dave’s here?_

Rush wishes he’s just overly flattering himself, that David finds him special enough to come back and _save_ him even though he _definitely_ shouldn’t do that. Surely, David’s here for _other_ more _important_ reasons and that’s something Rush will have no trouble believing. To consider that David came back just… just to keep _him_ alive…

Dave enthralled him because of something else, right? He didn’t mean to… he wanted…

_“I cannot risk letting you go free. I know you far too well to do that.”_

No way.

_“If you knew what was coming then I imagine you’ll throw yourself into the danger.”_

Dave, _tell_ me you didn’t…

 _“I’m trying to_ save _you.”_

“—eless, I regret we may have to stay our hand for now despite the investigations I wish to pursue.”

His head jerks up, shaking and forcing himself to come back to the present. He won’t dwell on his revelation just yet. He _can’t_. Eyes focus instead on David’s back, his form now standing near the window once more and Irina has remained before him, gaze fixated on David which means neither of them have noticed his sudden lapse in attention, his sudden freak out. Which is good. He doesn’t think he can tell them what he’s learnt, especially…

 _You **die**_.

He shakes his head.

 _You’re_ scared _, aren’t you?_

An explosive exhale leaves him, and he flops back onto the bed. He sees the others turn to him at the sudden movement but he whips an arm over his eyes, an attempt to cease the straining burn in them. There’s a discomfort growing in his stomach and he _really_ hates it.

“Rush?” There’s a gentle touch upon his knee. Irina. He wonders again at whatever merits there are at telling them, but decides to keep his mouth shut. Either way, he’ll try to survive for them, but if things turn dire then…

He removes his arm abruptly and props himself up on his elbows. “Everything’s all screwed up now, huh?” He asks, eyes searching both David’s and Irina’s own.

David’s mouth opens, then closes. He tilts his head slightly, and his gaze is unreadable as it examines Rush. “It is.” He says slowly. “I’m afraid it is all because of my own doing.” Irina turns as if to counter him, but he continues firmly. “I came back in time, and subsequently threw everything off balance. Everyone who uses Magick is gaining memories of the future and your own counterpart has come back to fetch him… me.”

So it _is_ true then. He wasn’t just dreaming that whole encounter. Rush himself came back but that doesn’t explain the whole _dying_ part. He supposes that maybe he’s gotten his facts wrong, that something _else_ happens to him instead—maybe he got sealed away or maybe he just got knocked into a coma but… why would David come back in the first place? And everyone who uses _Magick_? Seems like a strange term, but that’d include Wagram, wouldn’t it? And… and that weird magus-girl in pink. He hasn’t exactly found out her name yet.

Still, he groans aloud, sitting up fully now and addressing something else entirely than David’s own words. “This is gonna get confusing real fast if we don’t think up a name for our counterparts.”

A pause. Then—

“What?”

David looks so adorably _confused_ that Rush has to resist laughing. A grin makes it’s way across his face instead but it’s Irina who answers, a smile in her tone.

“Maybe they can go by their last names.” She offers, hands ascending to her front of her chest in that recognizable mannerism of hers.

“So we would call my counterpart Nassau and your own Sykes?” David asks slowly, looking amused despite himself. Rush is glad that he seems to be lightening up, if only a little bit, and he nods in response.

“I see.” David seems to mull the idea over in his mind—or at least, that’s what it _looks_ like but he figures it’s probably some other, more important thing because the other can’t be _this_ tripped up over something so simple, right?

“So what kinda investigations did you have in mind?” He asks, genuinely interested. He’s had enough rest—it’s probably the exact opposite that he needs, to be perfectly honest. He hopes David won’t bench him, though that’s probably really unlikely; the other tends to let him do what he wants—though not without first securing his _safety_. If it became so dire in the future that Rush has to be _enthralled_ and kept by him to ensure he’ll be alright, then… well, he honestly doesn’t even know what to _make_ of that. He doesn’t want to picture himself _that_ important to David to produce such a large change—he hasn’t got as much of an ego as _Darien_ enough to do so. At least, he _hopes_ he hasn’t.

“Recently, the Remnant Tracker picked up a very faint signal from Darken Forest. Irina has reason to believe it’s the Conqueror.” David begins patiently, exchanging a look with her. Rush wonders what he’s missed out exactly, but he finds that gnawing feeling isn’t popping up in the pit of his stomach anymore when seeing the two of them interact closely. Hmm.

A chance at having another go at the Conqueror, though? Count him in! Besides, the guy deserves—

“Though… I am wary of pursuing him.”

\--an A whooping… eh?

Rush looks at him incredulously. “ _Why_?”

Is it just him, or does David look nervous? Like, _outwardly_ nervous? “Shortly after you were… taken, I was ordered by Lord Qubine to confront the God Emperor about the Conqueror. However, while we were there, my cou... _Nassau_ showed up and killed Wagram." He sighs, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, Wagram was the First God Emperor." Rush's jaw drops at that, amidst the _holy heck Wagram’s actually dead?!_ thought running around in his headand David gives him a wry smile. "It's hard to believe, considering the length of time he would have had to live to survive to today, but the current God Emperor was loyal to him.” He shakes his head, expression growing a little darker. “You can imagine the repercussions. Since Wagram was loyal to the Conqueror, the God Emperor himself is as well. He ordered Congress to stand down and let the Conqueror do as he will.”

“What?” Rush doesn’t know when he starts standing, but he does, eyeing David incredulously. “Does he even know what the guy’s capable of?! I mean, he could be planning something really bad! Like, _world_ bad! We can’t let him do what he wants!”

David’s eyes avert to the ground. “I’m afraid I cannot act against him. Athlum may be put in danger because of it, and it’s bad enough that Nassau has endangered relations with the God Emperor by threatening his life.” There is frustrated shame in his tone and Rush opens his mouth, getting ready to say something _against_ all that because they can’t just give up _now_. They can’t let the Conqueror do whatever he wants, _especially_ now because Rush just has this _really_ bad feeling that he’s gonna do something _horrible_ and—!

Rush sucks in a breath, biting his tongue and he forces his words back. What is he thinking? Looking at David now, how can he ask him to do this? To put _Athlum_ in danger? He looks stressed enough as it is and Rush doesn’t want to pressure him, doesn’t want to _shame_ him for protecting his city because as it’s leader, what else can he do?

He can’t help but feel like he’s responsible for this. After all, if he just didn’t _die_ the first time ‘round, then maybe Nassau wouldn’t have come back and… no, it’s _all_ on him. He can’t put the blame on anyone else. He can’t let anyone _else_ shoulder this. They’re his friends— _family—_ and he won’t let them suffer. He _refuses_ to.

He grins then, and he likes to believe it’s genuine, confident. Moving forward, he puts a hand on David’s shoulder and the other looks up at that, blinking in clear confusion, as if he’s expected a different reaction from the smiling face Rush presents him with.

“It’s okay, Dave.” Rush starts reassuringly. He doesn’t want to say anything that’ll make him feel guilty, and so he chooses his next words carefully. “I owe you a lot for what you’ve done for my family. You took care of my dad while he was in a coma, and you helped me get back Irina. Heck, you’ve kept an eye out for _me_ more times than I can count! You’ve all done so much for me, and I really appreciate it. I do.” None of these are lies. He _means_ them. He doesn’t know how to repay David at _all_ and he feels that fighting for him isn’t enough. He has to… he has to _end_ this. For David. For Irina and the Generals and mom and dad and Athlum. They need to be _safe_. Rush won’t rest until that happens.

“Let me take care of the Conqueror, alright? I’m not originally from Athlum, so you shouldn’t take any heat from what I do, right?” He says easily, grinning wider and it feels a little more genuine than before. Maybe if he convinces them that he can do this, he can convince himself.

“What?” David’s voice is curt and short and _incredulous_. “You _must_ be joking!” He looks confused, torn, and disbelieving all at once and Rush can’t deny that he finds it cute. Still, he has to shake off such a thought, holding David’s gaze with a certain seriousness that he has not held in a long while.

“Dave, I mean it. I’ll fight for you, so don’t worry about anything, alright?”

“Rush, I’ll come with you--!” Irina’s starting forward immediately, features _devastated_ at hearing such resolution and Rush hates to cause that look on her face but this is _necessary_. He would do _anything_ for her.

Half turning, he rests his free hand on her head, ruffling the hair affectionately. “No can do, kiddo.” He tells her with the slightest trace of sorrow in his tone—which he’s quickly erases with a more confident tone. “I’ll come back. You _know_ I will.”

He figures he should do this as soon as possible, before he psyches himself out of such a decision. Even if he _does_ —well, he’s not gonna give up _that_ easily. He refuses to, not with his family on the line. Turning, he pretends not to hear Irina’s choked gasp, David’s sharp inhale, and begins to walk towards the door.

“Rush, wait—“ He can hear hesitant footsteps behind him, but he raises a hand, casting a grin back behind him. He thinks he sees crestfallen features, much like in his dream, and tries not to let that hinder his projected assurance.

“It’s alright, Dave! I got you covered!”

_Don’t worry, Dave. Please don’t worry._

His hand rests on the doorknob, turning it with the intent to _hightail_ it as soon as he’s out of sight—

 _Footsteps_ register in his ears but he doesn’t turn, he doesn’t _want_ to but then—

“ _Rush_ —!“

A moment’s hesitation is felt from behind then there’s a hand upon his shoulder, firmly pulling him around and Rush is looking into David’s frustrated yet desperate features and Rush himself is _bewildered_ at the _suddenness_ of the action but he can _still_ convince the other he can _do_ this, he just needs _time_ —

David leans forward and _kisses_ him.

For a split second, Rush doesn’t know how to react. Here’s Dave, pressing his lips upon him and Rush is just _standing_ there and he _wants_ to react, wants to kiss him _back_ but he thinks the shock has broken him for a few moments. Even when Dave suddenly backs away again, he’s looking as astonished as Rush feels, as if _Rush_ is the one who’s kissed _him_ and then they both look at each other and there’s just _silence_.

Out of the corner of his eye, Irina looks _pleased_ , albeit slightly grossed out. Watching your brother getting kissed might do that to you. Rush figures he’d probably react the same way.

But then, there’s a sudden, _encouraging_ —and especially _insistent_ — motion from the younger Sykes and then it clicks in Rush’s mind. Blinking, he returns his gaze back o Dave who seems to be _already_ retreating emotionally, regret clear on his features and— _really_ , there’s no need for that at _all_ and Rush moves forward as if to chase him, and with his hands suddenly— _awkwardly_ —cupping Dave’s cheeks, he leans forward and claims those lips once more.

It’s a _lot_ different from his dream, he realizes. The whole experience seemed foggy, unrealistic. Merely fantastical in nature but this— _this_ is reality. This is Dave and him _kissing_ and _enjoying_ it and he’s trying as hard as he can to be as close to Dave’s form as possible and Dave’s putting his hands on his waist and his eyes are _closed_ and Rush decides to let his eyes shut as well as he gently deepens the kiss.

He loves it. He loves _Dave_.

When they finally separate again—which is a sucky thing because Dave's lips are just _awesome_ —Rush doesn't let go of him and vice versa. Maybe he's just too much in awe of what's going on but he can't help just looking at David, _vulnerable_ for this one precious moment and he's _gorgeous_ for it.

"Wow." Rush lets a slow exhale escape him, unable to voice his proper opinion-- but then, maybe this is opinion enough. "Wow, uh, that was awesome."

 _You're_ awesome, he wants to tell Dave instead, but the words stick in his throat.

It's then Dave regains his composure, blinking once and finally letting go. Rush does the same, albeit reluctantly, and Dave steps back, clearing his throat.

"What I was trying to say," Dave begins, looking straight at Rush and he can't ignore the stern look in grey eyes—though he’s pleased to see there’s a _significant_ amount of joy in them. "Is that I won't let you go alone."

"Dave..." Inwardly, he can't help but feel relieved but he’s incredibly touched by the other’s unexpected gesture. He would have been fine going alone, he _knows_ this. "Are you saying--?"

"I will fight the Conqueror with you." Dave says resolutely, strength in his tone and Rush automatically feels _hyped_ at the confidence in his tone. "I don't know what I was thinking— if we allow the Conqueror to roam free, who knows what he will do? Judging by the destruction he's already wrought, there's no doubt he has something dire planned."

“Will the others be alright with this?” Rush asks, worry overriding his features now. Torgal would probably throw a fit over this. “I mean, are _you_ really sure? Going against the God Emperor is a pretty big deal, isn’t it?”

“I will talk with them later. My Generals are free to make their own decisions, but this is what I decide. I will fight with you, Rush.” Seeing such a stalwart, steady stance, Rush can’t _begin_ to doubt his words, nor how much he means it.

“I’m invited too, right?” Irina pipes in now, smiling earnestly and Rush can’t deny _her_ either.

“Course!” He says, grinning. He trusts her to take care of herself—she’s proven time and again that she can, after all.

“I’ll go ask the others too. You two can… uhm…” There’s a slightly awkward laugh escaping his sister’s lips, but she gives a small wave before darting out. Rush half-turns to follow her movements, vision catching the smallest flash in her hands and he recognizes the object for what it is, eyes widening in surprise and mortification. Was that a…?

Before he can question her, she’s gone, the door swinging shut gently after her and he has half a mind to go after her to get that thing _back_ but then he realises what context she’s just _left_ him in and he feels a flush rising in his neck. Almost reluctantly, he turns back to Dave, but he really _shouldn’t_ feel awkward, because this is _Dave_ and he _always_ felt comfortable in his presence but now… _now_ …

Dave doesn’t seem as nervous as him—in fact, he seems _calm_. At _peace_ despite the danger rising on the horizon. Maybe it’s because of what happened before. Then again, Dave always seemed to be calm and in control so why should this be any different?

Though… the more Rush looks at him, the more he _sees_ it. Dave’s _relaxed_. Any minute signs of tension are gone—signs that Rush regrettably hasn’t noticed _before_ —and there’s a small tilt of his lips, a clear sign of his happiness shining through the peaceful visage. Dave looks pleased, and Rush really doesn’t want it any other way.

“You’re staring, Rush.” Dave says suddenly, a gentle tease in his tone that Rush has only heard a few times before. “Something on your mind?”

Admittedly, he’s startled by the spoken observation and his gaze immediately averts. He almost curses his sudden shyness, but this is _Dave_ and Rush doesn’t wanna somehow embarrass himself. Strangely, it hadn’t mattered as much to keep up as perfect an appearance in front of Dave than before but then Rush berates himself. Dave _likes_ him. Dave likes him for _him_. If he starts acting differently now, it’d be weird, right?

“Yeah.” Rush breathes out his reply, then clears his throat. “Uhm, yeah. I’m just… this is just _really_ mint, yanno?”

Dave laughs, and immediately this moment doesn’t feel as awkward as Rush perceived it to be. “Then it wouldn’t be going too far to say that we’re… _hooked up_ now?”

A snicker escapes the Sykes’ lips. He feels a bubbling giddiness at his core, rising _exponentially_ and it’s hard to contain. Then again, why contain it in the first place? He moves forward—for if they’re _together together_ now, then they shouldn’t be _too_ far apart like just then. Besides, Rush likes being near Dave.

He hopes his hands aren’t too sweaty, but he grasps Dave’s own eagerly—fingers interlacing a bit awkwardly but _nicely_ —and squeezes them gently, to which he gets a squeeze in return with Dave smiling at him and just _looking_ at him and this is just… just _wow_. Rush doesn’t think he can get over this anytime soon.

An uncontrollable grin makes it’s way across his lips, and he can see the equivalent response in Dave by the way his eyes grow brighter, those handsome features softening with… well, Rush can’t exactly _think_ of the word. Maybe it’s adoration, maybe it’s _love_ but Rush doesn’t want to jump the gun too much. Then again, _that’s_ a ludicrous thought. He’s already thought that Dave likes him. _Really_ likes him. So… _so_ …

He ducks his head. The more giddy he gets the more his thoughts get out of control and just really _whacky_. He remembers the conversation he’s had with dad once—he said that love makes you all crazy in the head and now that Rush is experiencing the same flow of emotions, he can really _see_ it now.

Suddenly, he’s distracted from his thoughts by lean extremities coiling around his body, gently pulling him closer to Dave’s warm frame and he eagerly responds, shuffling forward a little more to reciprocate the gesture. He lifts his head, and the moment he does he feels a chaste press of lips against his own before Dave’s hugging him tightly, mouth now near his ear and Rush’s mouth near _his_ ear and he holds his breath, for fear of breathing too loudly in his excitement. He can’t deny this feels _amazing_ , pressed against Dave’s body like this, just simply _embracing_ and appreciating each other’s warmth. It’s nice. Rush doesn’t think he’s ever been more _giddy_ in his life before now.

“I’m happy, Rush.” Dave murmurs into his ear, and Rush cannot help shivering in delight. This is really _intimate_ and Rush doesn’t think he’d want it any other way. And Dave’s _words_ … “We’re actually… _together_. I haven’t… _had_ someone like you before in my life, so _thank you_.” There’s a waver in his tone, and the amount of emotion felt in it—especially hearing it at _this_ range—shakes Rush’s own heart and he feels a small lump in his throat.

“Hey, I like you, you like me.” He says, and he thinks his voice is slightly shaky itself—in fact, it feels like his whole _body_ is shaking in excited tremors—due to the giddiness that _this is actually happening_. “I should probably be thanking _you_. I mean, you’re a _Marquis_ and—I mean, I’m not saying you’re _just_ a Marquis and that I only like you ‘cause of that but… but you’re really _perfect_ and I’m just…”

“Shush.” Dave reprimands softly, tightening his embrace. “You’re you, Rush. That’s enough for me. That’s _more_ than enough for me.” Rush feels his heart leap upon hearing such words, and he opens his mouth to respond but Dave carries on. “Although… I am a _Duke_ now.” And is it just him, or does Dave sound like he’s _bragging_?

“Wow.” Rush says, pulling back slightly to stare at Dave. “You actually sound _smug_.”

Dave even _looks_ smug. The guy even has the nerve to try and look _innocent_ as well, and Rush can’t help but admit it’s adorable. Maybe just _Dave_ is enough to break his defences. “Well, it’s true.”

Rush laughs, but then the full impact of what Dave’s saying actually _registers_ and then his face morphs immediately to shock. “Wait—wait you said _Duke_ , right?” His mouth forms a perfect ‘o’. If it’s what he _thinks_ that title means then…

He grips Dave a little tighter now, a pleased grin spreading across his features once more. “ _Wow_ , Dave! That’s awesome! Athlum finally got independence?! Man, I wish I could’ve _seen_ that! Congrats, Dave!” He feels like kissing Dave again and—oh, what the heck. He leans forward—probably interrupting Dave when he’s about to speak—and messily kisses him, missing those lips entirely and landing on the corner instead. Dave pulls back immediately, his form shaking with laughter but Rush isn’t offended. If Dave’s happy then _he’s_ happy.

“Rush.” Dave says when he finally calms down, a full smile curving his lips as he regards him. “Would you do me the honour of attending a private dinner with me tonight?”

A private dinner? Oh _man_. But then—

“Wait, is that alright? I mean, what about the Conqueror?”

“We don’t have to leave right away, Rush. Tomorrow we will, but for now…”

Right. A night with Dave. Alone. Private. No one else. Approval for leaving the Conqueror until tomorrow.

Yeah, Rush can _really_ roll with that.

“Heh, count me in, Dave!”

* * *

 

 _You love him_.

His answer is sincere.

 _I do_.

The voice doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t care.

_I really do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okAY SO... the equivalent of david resolving to go against the GE happens here but the reason why he's so much more reluctant here is because he hasn't actually learned yet about what the Conqueror is and who he is and what he is and why Wagram and the others are helping him. cuz yanno nassau just kinda jumped in and killed him before he could and wagram himself was all like 'lolol i kno more than uhahdaha' and all that shit. though, it does spur david to take action into, erm, claiming rush cuz of the whole certainty that they do like each other and realizing those feelings themselves.
> 
> also, for those super confused, the beginning part was.......... a dream. then when rush wakes up the second time, that was reality. the italics part with david and rush was of after older!rush appeared when older!dave was talking with present!rush in the previous chapter.
> 
> the voice in italics that i haven't identified yet is a super sURPRISE so so :UUU i ain't revealing that yet. 
> 
> uhhh i can't think of anything else to cover lkjasfk oH YEAH THO my headcanons are showing again help alkjsf idk i feel like rush and david would be the more lovey dovey couple lksajf they're intimate, and they like being intimate, but mostly like the whole cuddling and kissing kinda stuff idk lkajsf stROKES CHIN
> 
> otherwise, this is basically a chapter of fluff in many different ways omfg kljsaf i hope y'all enjoyed reading!!
> 
> also, don't forget to leave a kudos and/or comment!!! Lemme know what you think hehe. i hope this 8,000 word length was enough to satisfy for the next month. aND I DEFINITELY HOPE this makes up for wow lkjaslkjf sO MUCH KUDOS since the last chapter hhhh. i'M REALLY GRateful for it wheezes lkjsaf. i really am idk how to give back except write more, so i hope i continue to please!
> 
> buT LIKE i'm not planning to actually write out their private dinner. maybe i'll do a one-off just for all of you guys for reading this and giving this fic your time urqwoir. buT YEAH see you all in the next chapter!! ;DD
> 
> oH YEAH if you have any questions or just wanna be chill and say hi (i'm super dumb so i wELCOME YOU TO TALK to me) anyone is welcome to message me at suterax on tumblr!! ;D either way, thanks for reading!!


	12. aon cheann déag

“So how’d it go?”

Irina manages to catch him as they start moving out the day after. There’d been no time to talk before, especially since the rest of the afternoon had been spent preparing for the journey; the night itself had Rush and Dave just eating casually in the Duke’s room and the morning after they only had time for breakfast before Dave ordered them out as soon as they were ready.

Which is understandable, considering the Conqueror is still strangely in Darken Forest; whatever he’s up to, he’s putting a lot of effort into it and it’s a thought that Rush doesn’t like at all. Yet there’s also something _else_ there with him as well—another Remnant, Irina confirms, which only spurs them faster.

“How’d what go?” Rush asks distractedly. His eyes and mind are elsewhere, and apparently it’s pretty obvious, for Irina laughs and nudges him.

“You’re staring.” She murmurs to him.

Jerking slightly at the wake-up call, he hadn’t exactly _noticed_ where his gaze has been lingering for the past few minutes. Eyes reluctantly leaving Dave’s form from up ahead, he regards the smug look upon his sister’s countenance.

“Yeah, well, there hasn’t been any monster activity for a while.” He mutters, grumbling under his breath. The younger Sykes only seems more amused at this, but looks at him more expectantly before he realizes exactly what she meant before.

“Oh, uh, the date? The private dinner?” Rush falters in his step, a hand rising to the nape of his neck to rub at it. “It was… it was _really_ awesome, sis.” There’s a smile on his face now, curving his lips easily with the thought of it. “We ate together and just… _talked_ I guess. It’s just like any other time I spend with Dave but… I dunno, it was nicer than the other times.”

“Because now you know you two are together, right?” Irina nods knowingly and Rush rolls his eyes, albeit amused at her behaviour.

“Probably.” He admits, his eyes trailing back to Dave once more. The Duke’s currently talking with Torgal in low tones, and Rush doesn’t doubt it’s important.

They walk in silence for a moment longer. It’s odd, but it feels as if Irina is… different, somehow. And not just because of Rush and Dave but… there’s something else he can’t put his finger on.  She seems more… mature? Reserved? He’s not too sure.

All the same, there strangely were no monsters just yet, but it’s starting to get dark. He figures that Dave will call camp soon as they’re approaching an area that’s known to be a safe site. Having not encountered many enemies on the way here, Rush figures it’ll be a quiet night.

“Rush?”

He looks to Irina once more, a query in his gaze at the strange melancholy in her tone.

“Mom and dad spoke to you yesterday, right?”

Rush’s eyes avert. “Uh, yeah, they did.” He says. During the preparations in the afternoon, they’d sought him out. He doesn’t exactly know what spurred it on, but they confirmed the suspicions he’s had for a while. “They told me… pretty much everything.”

“Good.” Irina says, and he sees her fists are clenched. He guesses it’s out of anger, and if it’s directed at both Marina and John, then he wishes she wasn’t angry at all. “I’m… really sorry, Ru—“

“Hey, s’ok, kiddo.” Rush grins at her then, trying to assure her. “I mean, it doesn’t make me _happy_ knowing that I was adopted, but I’m not sad either, yanno? I’m still glad to have a family, and you’re still my little sister, no matter what.”

“Thanks, Rush.” Irina smiles up at him, but he has the feeling he hasn’t caught onto what exactly she’s thinking. Whatever it is, he hopes she tells him soon, especially about… whatever’s going on with her.  He’s not gonna deny he’s concerned, even if he’s wrong.

It’s soon before the others stop up ahead. Dave turns around to address them and the rest of their party, his stance as confident as ever.

“We’ll set up camp here for tonight.” Dave’s eyes connect briefly with Rush’s own, and he gives him the smallest smile before his gaze travels on. The gesture itself is appreciated, and Rush can’t help but feel giddy all over again just by something so simple.

He feels movement on his right and Nora’s voice is a sniggered comment.

“Keep your pants on, Rush.”

Slightly mortified at the suggestion, he gives her a nudge as Dave continues (and he denies he casts a quick glance down just in case what Nora’s said holds _some_ merit).

“We’ve made good time on our journey, so we should be coming upon Darken Forest tomorrow afternoon. Get some rest, everyone.” Dave gives that warm smile again and looks to Rush once more. At the gaze, Rush snaps back to himself in remembrance and he steps forward.

“Alright, troops!” He claps his hands together, casting a grin at everyone. “Let’s build us some tents!”

* * *

 

Not too long after everyone’s settled and doing their own thing, Rush wanders towards Dave’s tent. He’s not gonna lie—he really wants to start sharing the private tent with the Duke. Rush always had the option of having his own space or sharing it with the other guys in their union and sometimes, he spent time with Irina. Dave always has his own tent since he’d been the Marquis and all, as well as the Generals if they chose to. Now he has to admit he wants a change of environment, especially with the recent events.

He pauses suddenly.

A shiver runs down his spine. It’s as if warm water is trickling down it and while it’s not _unpleasant_ , he certainly doesn’t feel reassured. It’s as if there’s a web of power cast out, searching for _something_ , but he’s not entirely sure what. Or even _who_.

Then again, he can just be imagining things—it won’t be the _first_ time, after all. Mom has always said he had an active imagination as a kid, though he guesses that doesn’t exactly include something as _subtle_ as this.

“Rush?”

His head jerks up, surprised at the sudden call. Pagus shuffles towards him, blinking as he does so.

“My Lord wishes for you to join us. A discussion in light of the recent events—it’s verily needed.”

“You don’t say.” Rush says aloud, a hand rising to the nape of his neck to rub at it. “Alright. Lead the way!” It’s not like he has anything better to do, after all. Besides, he’d been on his way to see Dave anyways, though maybe on a lighter note.

They move together to probably the biggest tent out of all of them. Dave’s place always was recognizable at first glance. The vastness and privacy is probably a boon any Lord has, whether travelling or at home.

“So I have heard that both you and Lord David are… an _item_ now.” Pagus’ observation isn’t a surprise—though the suddenness is. Neither him nor Dave have had time to tell anyone, and so they’ve all probably had to find out themselves through other means. All the same, Rush hopes they approve of him—after all, it’s like the Generals are basically Dave’s parents wrapped up in four people.

Before Rush can answer, Pagus continues with that pleased tone. “Myself and the other Generals have been looking forward to your union for a long time.”

 _What_?

Surprised, Rush halts in his tracks and gawks at the qsiti. What does he _mean_ by _that?_ Rush supposes it’s pretty obvious, but he’s still having a hard time wrapping his head around the idea _itself_. Pagus only seems more amused at his astonishment and continues.

“You would be surprised at how many have anticipated it. Even those beyond the castle walls.”

“Wait, wait.” Rush tries to keep his jaw from dropping even more. “You mean the _townspeople_? What—they can’t—you guys were really _that_ sure?!”

“Oh, yes, m’boy.” Pagus gives a hearty laugh. “From the numerous times you’ve ventured out and stayed in the centre of town, I’m surprised you have not heard a lick of gossip about yourself.”

Not to say he hasn’t heard _anything_ —because, well, the things he’s heard are incredibly _flattering_ and his ego can really only take so much before bursting—but there’s been nothing along _those_ lines before. It makes him wonder whether Dave’s heard stuff about this.

“Hurry up.” The blunt tone of the sovani General suddenly intervenes and Rush starts in surprise at his appearance. “Lord David awaits.”

He turns and ducks inside a tent a few metres away; Pagus beckons Rush, moving over slowly to the Duke’s tent.

“You will forgive him, I hope. He is rather stressed by the recent occurrences, as are the rest of us.” The qsiti says sombrely, looking to where Torgal has disappeared into.

“I thought he was always like that.” Rush says immediately without thinking and winces upon hearing a voice echo to them from ahead.

“I heard that!” Torgal sounds disgruntled, but there’s also a familiar laugh echoing from inside the tent that makes Rush bounce on the balls of his feet eagerly.

“Best not wait any longer.” Pagus says mildly, though there’s a qsiti smirk upon his face that Rush can’t ignore, though will probably have to find out the cause of it later.

Moving into the tent, he finds Dave, Torgal, Blocter, and Emmy waiting, all of them standing in a circle but… looking a little cramped. A bedroll is tucked to the side, and Rush can’t help snickering at the realization.

“Jeez, you guys are weird. If we were gonna hold a meeting why didn’t we bring the war tent?” He states, plopping himself on the ground. The height of the tent isn’t exactly _tall_ —heck, Torgal’s even bowing his head a little, which is saying something.

“Hello to you too, Rush.” Emmy says, though there’s an amused quirk of her lips before she decides to settle down on the ground as well, neatly crossing her legs one way. “I’m glad you’re well. You cannot imagine how frazzled Torgal was at your absence.”

“What?” Said sovani bristles, his features clearly affronted. Blocter guffawed at the jibe but the moment Torgal turns his glare onto him his tail begins swishing madly.

During such antics, Dave quietly makes his way over to Rush, settling beside him with a small smile upon his face. Not even hesitating, Rush immediately grasped the Duke’s hand, interlacing digits tightly with the other’s own and feels an answering squeeze in response. For a moment, Rush can’t help but just _look_ at Dave’s face for more than a few seconds because Dave is just—well, _Dave_ and he’s far too gorgeous _not_ to look at. _Seriously_ though.

Dave’s just really… what was it? Aesthetically pleasing to the eye?

“That is one way to greet me.” Dave suddenly says, a remarkably pleased look upon his face and Rush stares at him blankly before realizing he basically just voiced his thoughts to Dave’s face. Before he can react however, the blond leans over and gently presses his lips against his own before withdrawing just as smoothly. “Thank you, Rush.”

Blinking in astonishment at just how _mint_ Dave is at utterly _charming_ him on the spot, Rush finds his mouth opening and closing more times than he’s comfortable with, struck dumb by _Dave_. Oh, back on Eulam he’d been a smooth operator _himself_ but he’s readily caught off-guard when it’s being done to him. He doesn’t know whether he actually _likes_ it or not but he makes a mental promise to do the same thing to Dave one day.

 _One_ day.

“Awwww, maybe we should let the lovebirds have their moment alone!” Blocter’s voice interrupts Rush’s reverie and his gaze jerks to the yama. Still a bit out of it, he can’t formulate a proper response but then how _can_ he when Dave starts to gently circle his thumb upon Rush’s hand? Maybe it’s absentminded, _unintentional_ but— _damn_ , it’s so _sweet_ that Rush is floating once more on Cloud Nine and not really paying attention to anything else once more. He’s pretty sure there’s a dumb grin on his face as well.

“That won’t be necessary.” There’s that smile on Dave’s face that’s both mischievous and innocent at the same time. “We’ll have time to catch up tonight, after all.”

Oh, _man_. This is _ace_! Rush guesses _that_ fulfils his previous desire of sleeping in the same tent with him.

“Wait.” Rush suddenly says, looking around. “Is Irina coming at all?”

Emmy shifts, a thoughtful look upon her face. He isn’t sure, but it seems like she’s also worried. “I asked her before but she said she didn’t feel up to it.” Her expression turns briefly sombre as she glances towards Rush. “I’ll make sure to tell her everything that happens here.”

“Thanks.” Rush says gratefully. He feels a little guilty for being so wrapped up in thoughts of Dave that he hasn’t bothered to check on her just yet. Maybe he’ll go with Emmy after and see how she’s doing.

“Right.” Dave speaks up suddenly, looking up at everyone. “Sit down. I’d like to commence this meeting.”

It’s a little hilarious, seeing them all struggle to fit in a circle. Normally they’re always standing but here it’s just awkward. Rush figures it probably would’ve been better to do this outside, but at least there’s _some_ privacy here. Then again, the air’s bound to get stifling pretty quickly…

Rush quickly halts his train of thought. No good thinking that way—it doesn’t seem the others are too bothered by this. Maybe they'll start to be when Blocter’s swishing tail knocks one side of the tent down.

“We haven’t had the time lately, so that is why I believe we must do this now.” Dave straightens, and still somehow looks incredibly regal even when sitting down and holding Rush’s hand. Must be a Nassau thing. “The recent occurrences are discouraging, but I’m certain that the older version of both myself and Rush are still wandering around.” Dave casts a glance at Rush, and he nods at him before continuing. “As such, we’ll have to decide what to do with them. On a side note, Rush has requested to… call them both Nassau and Sykes respectively so as to avoid confusion.” There’s amusement curling in his tone as if in remembrance of Rush’s own words. “We’ll start with Sykes.”

“Yes, please.” Rush says aloud, huffing slightly. “What’s this about him coming up and confronting you guys? He defeated Heaven’s Lord for you, right?” He sits up a little straighter, feeling a little ego boost. “Waaaiit, how cool was I? I mean, Sykes. How cool was Sykes? How’d he do it?” So he _may_ be going off-topic just a _little_ bit but he can’t really help it. After all, this is his _future_ self and he’s basically missed the whole introduction. Sans the event in where he’d been enthralled—that doesn’t count at all. The only one that _does_ is…

“Hold on.” He begins again, frowning (and not entirely noticing how he’d interrupted Torgal from speaking). “What about the Conqueror? Isn’t he loyal to him?” He’s scowling now, because there’s no way he’d _want_ to serve the bad guy—if anything, it’d be on unwilling terms and even _then_ he’d find a way to thwart him.

“It does not seem so. Sykes was… more like _you_ when we encountered him atop Mount Vackel.” Pagus says, tilting his head.

Emmy pitches in immediately afterwards. “That’s right. Whatever personality you witnessed at the Holy Plain isn’t consistent with how Sykes acted. He told us that it’d been the multitude of Remnants within him that’d taken over.” She frowns then. “I’m… not sure how dangerous that is, but it seemed like Sykes was not too bothered about it.”

“They seemed to be able to hurt him, at the very least.” Dave suddenly says, and his words contain a dark undertone. “Do you recall Nassau mentioning how he’d caused him more suffering? And it is by his actions that Ru— _Sykes_ had gotten injured in the first place.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose…” Rush feels slightly uncomfortable now, mostly because it seems like Dave _really_ doesn’t like Nassau.

“Perhaps not, but he still showed lack of constraint.”

And there’s that murderous glare again. Rush is _very_ glad that that glare isn’t directed at him; he’s heard a _lot_ of things about Dave when he’s angry and he knows enough _not_ to get him so incensed.

There’s a small moment of silence afterward; the Generals seem just as uncomfortable, and Rush doesn’t really know what to say himself. After all, this is _Dave_. Nassau _is_ Dave and they can’t really defend one person without offending the other. Damned if they do, damned if they don’t. Time travel _really_ messes things up, he concludes.

Thankfully, Dave seems to quickly gain back his composure. “I apologize. I’ve gone off topic.” A sigh escapes his lips then, silent and controlled. Rush makes a note to talk to him later about all of this. After all, the guy helped him last night about these sorts of things.

Dave continues right away. “Now, from what we’ve learnt, Sykes isn’t exactly an enemy, but the Remnants inside of him are. We still need to know how exactly those Remnants had gotten inside of him and _what_ those Remnants are. Unless the Remnants have somehow abandoned their physical forms in the future, we’ll have to treat them as entirely new Remnants for now.”

“I can believe that.” Rush says. “’Sides, they’re all from the future so I won’t be too surprised if there’re new Remnants too.”

Except, there _shouldn’t_ be any Remnants, if his guess is correct. From the conversation he can recall between Nasasu and Sykes, there didn’t seem to be any more Remnants existing, if the lack of monsters says anything. Or maybe they _sealed_ all the Remnants—maybe _that’s_ what Rush gave his life for. He isn’t sure, but he knows he isn’t sharing _that_ detail anytime soon. He _refuses_ to be left out of the battle, especially if Nassau’s actions say something about what Dave might do once he finds out.

Dave nods in acknowledgement, pursing his lips before moving onto the next subject. “Nassau is a… questionable character. If anything, he’s a neutral force for now, albeit an unpredictable one. He’s clearly against the Conqueror, though his true allegiance seems to be towards… the World.”

A small shiver runs down Rush’s spine once again. “The World?” He feels _wary_ all of a sudden, and it’s as if that same, searching feeling from before is trickling over his skin like water once more.

“In sovani legend, the World is a being that is the ground itself. The sea, the dirt, the vegetation.” Torgal finally speaks, his ears twitching in discomfort. “It is also sentient, and can talk to those who are attuned enough to the earth.  In ancient times, my race had sought to claim its power but it was said that only a few, certain mitra can fully access the World's knowledge. That is why Marion Marshall was the first to claim Magick.”

For a moment, Rush can only stare. Torgal doesn’t really _do_ the whole ‘sharing my background’ kinda thing—in fact, _no_ sovani easily shares their knowledge with anyone else. Rush figured that maybe Allan or Caedmon would be willing to share, but they’d been just as reluctant.

“Thank you, Torgal.” Dave says quietly, probably knowing the full extent of what the sovani has just shared.

“Makes sense.” Rush decides to take the reins on this one, making an expansive gesture. “I mean, going by what the Academy Visistones say, the Marshalls are the ones who are _really_ ace at Magick. They created their own techniques and stuff and… they don’t even _need_ any focus point to casts mystic arts.” He hasn’t seen Irina try it yet, but she said she’s been practising. “And, well, Marion’s Blessing is probably a skill Marion developed herself and it got passed down.”

“Doesn’t seem like an inheritable technique either since the young master was able to use it himself.” Blocter says worriedly.

“Wait—you _used_ it, Dave?” Rush turns his head to properly gawk at the Duke but he only gives the smallest shrug.

“I haven’t yet told you, Rush. Nassau has full mastery of Magick it seems and has utilized the Blessing, although it’d been _against_ the God Emperor. He threatened to Collapse Harmonium.” Dave frowns then. “I didn’t think such a thing was possible.”

Oh, wow. _Collapse_ the _Harmonium_? Marion’s Blessing was more powerful than he _thought_ if _that’s_ one of its abilities.

It’s probably biased of him that he’s focusing more on the facts about Marion’s Blessing than on Nassau actually _threatening_ innocent lives. He just doesn’t think he’d do it. But then, he hadn’t _been_ _there_. He doesn’t know what suffering had possessed Nassau to make such a threat. Maybe he should try and talk to him, to see if he can get through to him.

“Do you know anything of the contract that Nassau spoke of, Torgal?” Dave is asking the sovani now. His brows are drawn in a deep frown, and Rush only just realizes that their hands aren’t interlaced. He briefly wonders when they disconnected and, glancing down, hesitantly intertwines their fingers once more. He feels a gentle, answering squeeze and Rush is readily happy again.

“Only a small amount, Lord David.” Torgal seems to hesitate briefly before continuing. “When… the Remnants first came, the World deemed them as a threat and subsequently created it’s own weapons to repel and destroy them. The sovani, however, decided instead that the Remnants would be their power and then bound themselves to them so as to fight off the World. Eventually, they were able to put it into a deep slumber.” His ears flatten here, displeasure clear upon his features though as to why, Rush isn’t too sure. “It is said that a sole Remnant was born to seal the World and keep it dormant, and the Remnant itself would sleep forever as the sacrifice.”

There’s that weird feeling crawling down Rush’s spine again, as if they’re being watched. Or maybe this huge talk about the World is just creeping him out. Torgal continues seamlessly, and Rush pays attention once more.

“However, the World was not yet defeated entirely. It regained its sentience through dreams and began speaking to Marion Marshall. She would be the World’s agent, someone who would speak and act for it. Soon enough, she would be able to choose her own people, contract them to work for her and, in turn, the World. That, I imagine, would be what Lord Nassau referenced.” Torgal pauses briefly. “I was not cognizant of the fact that there is a specific means of dying you have to abide by, however.”

“You knew all of this?” Emmy asks quietly, and it only really just clicks with Rush. Why hasn’t Torgal said this before? Why hasn’t he said _anything_ about this—?

“I have just broken many ancient vows.”

 _Oh_.

The revelation is something that makes Emmy recoil, brows drawn in remorseful worry. Blocter’s tail swishes more violently than before and Rush wonders what kinda vows exactly Torgal has had to take—and to _who_? Other sovani? Pagus and Dave don’t seem to be too surprised. Maybe they both already know about it.

“If any of my people are to find out, I would be an outcast.” Torgal is as stoic as ever, not even betraying a single emotion and already Rush feels helplessly frustrated because while it doesn’t _seem_ like Torgal has sacrificed anything it seems like a _big_ deal to be considered an outcast.

“We won’t tell.” Rush promises, but the sovani doesn’t seem to feel any better.

“ _We_ are your people now.” The strong voice comes from beside him, and Rush glances over. He can’t identify the emotion within Dave’s gaze, but it’s powerful and _sure_ , something that irrevocably instils confidence in _anyone_ , even when the speaker is sitting down and, well, holding Rush’s hand. “You will _never_ be an outcast, Torgal.”

For a moment, the sovani doesn’t answer. Finally, his head bows very slightly, ears losing their stiff posture. “Of course, Lord David.”

Dave doesn’t seem to accept that. “I am in your debt.”

And then— _then_ Torgal seems to _smile_ , if only very slightly, as if such words has reminded him of some kinda inside joke only they are both privy to. “Never you, my Lord.”

Rush opens his mouth to exclaim that Torgal is actually _showing_ his good mood for once—because  heaven knows the sovani ( _many_ of them, actually) _need_ to more often—but then that _feeling_ comes upon him again, stronger than _ever_ and he feels his stomach lurch, as if the world has tilted _sickeningly_ off-balance and for a moment, he feels like he’s going to hurl. All thoughts of asking the others whether they feel it or not flies out of his head when bile rises up his throat and he immediately shoots up, darting out of the tent and ignoring the calls of the others.

It’s dark out, and he almost trips over a stray branch. He makes it five or so steps before he’s doubling over, hurling the contents of his dinner out onto the grass. There’s a distant roaring in his ears and he’s disorientated. He feels like he’s gonna just tip face-forward _into_ the vomit but then there’s a strong arm around his form, _steadying_ him, and he readily leans into it to keep his balance whilst feeling his whole body heave violently.

Eyes squeezing shut, he can _hear_ the sounds he’s making and it’s _really_ disgusting. He thinks he can blearily see a few tent flaps opening to find the source of the commotion and a hand raises to wave them off because they don’t really _need_ to worry about this. It’ll pass. He thinks it will, anyways.

After what seems like an eternity, he’s now only dry heaving, gagging out whatever’s left in his system and he tastes something absolutely _rancid_ in his mouth. Ugh. He’s witnessed Irina get sick enough times to take care of _her_ when this happens but this has never happened to _him_ before. He supposes it’s because of his Remnant nature, and now that he’s experienced it he’s decided it’s _definitely_ something he doesn’t want to experience ever again.

By the end of it, Dave’s holding him, talking urgently to someone he can’t see but when the words cease, when Rush is being slowly guided away to _somewhere_ , he feels a cool hand upon his forehead before it runs soothingly through the locks of his hair. It would’ve felt nice, if not for the burning in his throat.

“I don’t feel so hot.” Rush manages to say weakly. He’s somehow lying down now, mind awhirl at the recent, _sudden_ events and despite his stationary position, he wishes the world will just stop _spinning_. Dave is beside him, _that_ much he knows. He’s sitting, a wet cloth in his hand and he’s gently pressing at Rush’s forehead, dabbing away at the edges of his mouth whilst his other hand rubs circles upon his stomach, blue lights sparking with each round. Restorative arts, Rush recognizes, and squeezes his eyes shut once more.

“Just rest, Rush.” Dave’s voice is controlled and _taut_ but there is still an undertone of utmost _concern_ there. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

Rush has half a mind to tell _Dave_ not to worry since _he’s_ the worrywart out of the two of them. But then this is nice, with Dave next to him. It’s not long before the sickness is starting to pass as quickly as it’d come, and he’s thankful when the roiling nausea slows to a stop in his belly.

He doesn’t know whether he passed out or not, but Dave’s still rubbing his tummy and he’s muttering orders at someone. Rush currently can’t make out the words nor the blurry figure in his vision. Even as it sharpens, the person ducks out of the small tent they’re currently in, and Dave’s hovering over him when Rush tries to sit up.

“Stop that, Rush.” Dave’s voice is slightly high when he tells him what to do, maybe wrung out with tension and the Sykes swats at him. Despite his attempts, Dave’s stubborn and he guides him back to lie down firmly, those tan features still drawn with worry but now exasperated. “Pagus says it will pass but I’m not convinced.”

“You’re never convinced.” Rush groans aloud, but concedes. After a brief moment, he figures it’s the previous sickness delaying his common sense when he suddenly blurts out the first words that come to mind.

“Lie with me, then.”

Dave’s silent for a moment. Rush immediately feels embarrassed and doesn’t really want to look, instead squeezing his eyes shut. He’s already beating himself up about it, and he supposes he can just blame it on the nausea. After all, he _is_ pretty dizzy and he’s sure that Dave can understand—

“Alright.”

Rush’s mind freezes when there’s a warm body suddenly _settling_ beside his own. It readily goes into _overdrive_ when an arm neatly hugs him around the stomach, gently pulling him into a toned frame. As random as this night is, it’s definitely turning out to be one of the _better_ ones.

He feels a soft breath hit his cheek as a blanket is thrown over the both of them. Thin, but enough for the night is humid—besides, they’re both in lighter garments than what they usually wear for battle.

“Are you well, Rush?” He can _feel_ Dave’s features close to his own, and he’s sorta afraid to turn his head because, well, maybe there’s a _booger_ on his nose and he doesn’t want the other to be subjected to that. He’s too _ace_ for it. Or maybe Rush is overreacting again in light of everything. Things are just really weird for him right now.

“Yeah.” Rush murmurs, and tries to swallow. It hurts, but it’s manageable. “That was really something.”

“What happened? Do you know the cause?”

Well, he can _guess_.

“I’ve been feeling like… there’s someone watching me.” His voice is hushed unintentionally, and he clears his throat, wincing slightly at the rawness of it. “They’re searching and they’ve… finally found me.”

Dave stills. His tone is unreadable when he speaks again.

“How long has this been going on, Rush?”

“Only during this trip.” He says quickly, not wishing for the other to think that he’s been holding back information. “I dunno if I’m just being paranoid or anything. In fact, I probably am ‘cause of everything’s that’s been going on yanno, haha…” Rambling now, there’s the growing doubt because maybe he _has_ been imagining things, that he’s just stressed and isn’t handling it very well in… _incredibly_ strange ways but he’s still not _managing_ it, in the end.

“This is the first you’ve felt something like this before though, right?” Dave asks, and his voice is matter-of-fact.

Okay. Point.

When Rush doesn’t answer, Dave slowly separates. The Sykes’ mood drops terribly, but there’s a hand running gently through his hair. The blond stands then, and Rush tries to keep him in his sight.

“Sleep, Rush.” Dave murmurs to him. There’s the softest smile. “I’ll make sure you’re safe. You don’t need to worry. Just… rest.” His touch lingers in Rush’s hair before he leaves the tent quietly.

Despite Dave’s words, Rush can’t help but stay awake. He hears faint voices outside, but for the first time in a while, he’s greeted with silence.

Eyes close then, an attempt _to_ sleep but he feels like he’d be a bit more content if Dave was here. Still, he knows that the Duke is probably warning the others, more likely taking his feelings far more seriously than Rush is. He’s touched at the thought, but Dave needs a break, though he supposes that won’t be possible with the Conqueror still at large.

The nausea has subsided completely by now. It’s strange how sudden it’d come upon him, a result of… _whatever_ that searching feeling was. He hopes his intuition is wrong, but otherwise… if it’s just after _him_ , then he doesn’t want the others getting hurt. Or maybe it’s better to fight with the others. They could have a chance against whatever this is, but he’d still be held accountable for whatever happened, right? He could prevent that…

He doesn’t realise he’s fallen into an uneasy sleep amidst his agitated thoughts until he wakes drowsily to a gentle touch at his forehead. It’s brief, his wakefulness, but it’s enough to register a familiar warmth settle beside his own, drawing him in its embrace.

There’s a murmur too quiet for him to hear. A chaste kiss is pressed against his lips. He turns his head tiredly into the earthy warmth, and sleeps.

* * *

 

( _caite iarsma._ )

Voices. Remnants.

( _the hearth will stand behind you_ )

 _Thank you_. 

A small response, but his gratitude is sincere.

( _sleep._ )

He does.

* * *

 

The morning after, he decides to check on Irina right away.

He feels pretty pumped the moment he gets up. He supposes the rest is all he really needed. Dave isn’t there when he opens his eyes, but he supposes he’ll find him later on. For now, he needs to find that silly sister of his.

It’s not time to leave yet, he thinks. As he steps out of his tent, he’s hit by the brief coldness leftover from the night, eyeing the barely rising run on the horizon. More than likely everyone else is still sleeping. He checks Irina’s tent, but she’s not there. It doesn’t even look like she’s _slept_ in it and his concern rises.

When he exits it, he sees the silhouette of Nora, leaning against the tree as lazy wisps of smoke ascend from something she holds in one hand. Maybe she’d know something.

As he approaches, she doesn’t deign to look around. Instead, she tilts her hand towards him, the one with the rolled up, smouldering herbs in it. “Wanna try, kiddo?”

Rush’s nose wrinkles at the smell. It’s familiar, but he can’t tell what. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.” Nora says, shrugging. She takes another drag, blowing it out in a perfect ‘O’. “It’s just refreshing herbs. Not a relaxing herb. Too sweet. This one really wakes you up.” She turns her head then, if only to give him a wry grin. “Minty.”

He stares, confused. “I woulda thought frostleaf was the minty one.”

“You kidding?” Nora laughs dryly. “That thing won’t even light. If I wanted to try it, I’d have to risk it being stuck to my tongue.” She shrugs. “Now, faerie herbs—they _really_ give you an edge.”

“You’d be the herb sampler, huh?” He asks, cocking a brow. He’s seen Nora smoke a few times before, out of sight of everyone, but in his lack of interest he never thought it’d be the medicinal herbs that would be used for that sorta stuff.  

“A girl’s gotta have a hobby.” Nora says, a smirk curling her lips. It goes silent for a moment, and Rush has half a mind to ask her now whether she’s seen his sister around but before he can open his mouth, she’s suddenly saying: “Irina’s gone that way, if you were curious.”

That works. “Thanks.” Rush says gratefully before jogging off in the direction she points to. It’s right past her, and he catches a whiff of the refreshing herb she’s talking about. It really is minty—maybe he will try it someday.

He wanders into the bush nearby. They’d camped on the edge of Darken Forest—not exactly at the heart of it just yet but they were close enough to be able to make it in a few hours. He wonders why his sister even _wanted_ to go into here this early—for a moment, he fears she may have taken off, to face the Conqueror alone but it’s a silly thought. He knows she wouldn’t be dumb enough to do that.

When he finally happens upon her, she’s sitting against a tree, motionless and staring at nothing.

Fear spikes in him, and he quickly goes to her, crouching next to her still form with a sense of urgency. Hands rest upon her shoulders, and he tries to catch her gaze. “Irina? Irina, you okay?” He asks; she doesn’t _seem_ hurt. But then, she doesn’t seem to be entirely here _either_.

After a brief moment of shaking her, she _finally_ responds, to his great relief. He’d been about to just carry her and run her straight to Pagus for advice, but it seems he doesn’t have to do so now. She looks at him, and he feels dumb for not registering the puffiness of her eyes.

“Irina?” He asks again, though this time softly. He sits next to her and she immediately leans her head on his shoulder. Arms wrap around her and he hugs her tight, trying to dispel whatever she may be feeling.

However, what she says next stills him completely.

“I remember everything, Rush.”

He doesn’t know what to say for a long time. Irina seems to expect this.

“You mean…?” Rush gets it. He still has to ask but he’s cognizant of the situation. He remembers what Dave said to him, how those who possess Magick can recall their memories of the future. It’d been a guess, but Rush can believe it, especially if Wagram and… well, _Khrynia_ can remember. And wow, he needs to see her real soon. The stuff he’s learned is _not_ okay without a talk with her at least! How’s he supposed to know her name is Khrynia…?

Either way, he supposes this supports Dave’s theory as well. If what Irina is saying what he thinks she’s saying, then…

“Rush, you…” She swallows harshly, looking up at him and he sees the sorrow, the _frustration_ in her gaze, the self-blame and _hurt_ and he can guess what she knows. He feels his heart sink in his chest, and knows his effort to keep the truth from her has been for naught.

He hears a rustle from behind them—he figures it’s just the wind and lets it breeze easily from his mind. Irina’s shifting in front of him, and she’s moving now, getting up from his arms and walking a short distance away. He scrambles to his feet, uncertain of how to approach this, of how to get her to not _say_ anything to the others but how can he do that? When she may have answers to everything they have questions for, how can he just ask her to forget when it includes the memory that Rush is only _guessing_ at and now can _definitely_ confirm because of her reaction?

At her extended silence, he decides to try it anyway. He wants her to understand.

“Irina, don’t say anything about it.” He says quietly, gaze fixated on her still form once more. “Don’t tell anyone about… about what happens to me.”

“You knew?!” Irina turns, anger clear on her face and he feels his own defences rise exponentially at the upcoming argument. “You knew about your… you _dying_ and you didn’t want to tell _anyone_?!”

“I don’t want to worry anyone, Irina!” His fists clench and his jaw sets in exasperation. “Everything’s changing now—who’s to say I’ll die? Besides, you _know_ I have to _protect_ you and Dave and mom and dad and everyone else—I won’t let _anything_ happen to you guys!” He’s not even sure where his argument’s going anymore. He just knows that Irina is going to tell and he doesn’t _want_ that. They’ll just get overprotective of him, and that’s something he wants to avoid at all costs.

“Yeah, and we don’t want anything happen to _you_ either, Rush!” She looks like she’s about to cry, but Rush is glad she doesn’t. He knows his defences would easily crumble at the sight of her. “Don’t you dare sacrifice yourself! Don’t you _dare_! I remember— _everything_. I remember the years following your decision. I remember _everything_ changing and not _only_ because of the disappearance of the Remnants! _You_ were _gone_ , Rush! How could we ever move on from that?!”

“I probably wanted you all to be happy. I dunno, alright?!” It’s like she’s blaming him for something that he hasn’t even _done_ yet. Not that he _plans_ to die. “Just know that if… if all of you _were_ alright then there’s nothing to worry about. If you were all _safe_ then I’d _gladly_ exchange my life for that.” His tone is dying down in volume; he feels more tired with each word that comes out from his mouth. He hadn’t intended for this to happen—he _really_ hopes he won’t be benched. He _has_ to make sure the others are safe.

“You’re an idiot, Rush!” Irina’s voice is shrill and helplessly _angry_ and _stubborn_. “You’re so hard-headed! Can’t you just get it through your _thick_ _skull_ th—…”

“What?” Rush frowns at the sudden silence, admittedly trying to control his annoyance at her words but it’s not working so well. “ _What_ , Irina?”

But then, he supposes he doesn’t even _have_ to ask. There’s that feeling again from last night, that _crawling_ sensation. It slithers across his shoulders and they hunch in response. His breathing quickens, yet the nausea is absent. A quick glance forward tells him that the grass is lighting up, incandescent with a golden light but not from the _sun_ exactly…

“ _Rush!_ ” Irina looks horrified and she reaches out with a hand, stepping forward instinctively but it’s as if she’s fighting against a fierce _wind_ , buffeting her relentlessly and it’s coming from _Rush_.

Sucking in a sharp breath, there’s a huge _roaring_ in his ears and it’s only _now_ he notices the aura that surrounds him, powerful and _forceful_ and it’s like his limbs are being pulled in all directions. Maybe they _are_ and he _panics_ , admittedly, but not for himself because he knows he feels completely fine but whatever this is, it’s clear that it may hurt _Irina_ because even as she stretches her hand out, there’s a tangible _bolt_ from the whirlwind encompassing him, making her recoil with a cry.

“Irina!” He yells. He starts to take a step but he can’t even _move_. It’s as if he’s paralyzed and he looks down, seeing a strange, circular insignia lighting up like a _flame_ around him and rapidly it’s consuming him; it doesn’t hurt, it’s not _killing_ him but it feels as if he’s _moving_ , being _transported_ elsewhere and before him, he only barely sees Irina’s features glow with the familiar blue markings before his vision is obscured by golden light.

A shout is heard from behind him, but he doesn’t have _time_ to acknowledge the tight grip upon his arm before his form is ultimately _whisked_ from the space. It’s as if he’s falling and flying and _stationary_ ; his matter is thrown about, directed to a certain _space_ before being deposited, _coalesced_ into his body once more and he lands _hard_ , enough to topple over and he feels someone _else_ there with him, a grunt echoing from them before Rush lies on the ground with the other on top haphazardly, a mess of limbs and swift curses Rush is admittedly surprised to hear at _all_.

Slowly, they disentangle from one another and Rush is left staring, shocked at who’s accompanied him unexpectedly, standing now and briefly dusting off their clothes.

“Rush, are you okay?” Dave asks quietly, and he holds out a hand for him to take. Still surprised, Rush takes it, easily hauled to his feet and he mutters a few words of gratitude. He wonders how the other was even able to _touch_ him, especially recalling how Irina was repelled, because it’d been… some sorta teleportation spell, right? Or something along that line, because the place he’s in now definitely doesn’t look like the same forest he was in before. This place is denser, more brightly lit. It _looks_ like Darken Forest, but it’s like it’d taken a filter change.

 He takes stock of his unexpected companion: Dave’s tense, _incredibly_ so and it seems as if he’s prepared for a _fight_ of some sort. His gaze is fixated somewhere above Rush’s shoulder and he’s only slowly catching up with the grave look upon the Duke’s countenance. Maybe his stare held enough query in it for Dave to see, because the blond nods to somewhere behind him.

Rush turns.

Oh. _Oh_.

He decides very, _very_ easily that they are _very_ much _screwed_ right now.

“Any plans, Rush?” Dave asks, his tone stiff in an attempt to keep composure.

Rush finds it’s a little hard to breathe. “No.” He admits. “Not really.”

For standing before them are the older Dave, a huge, giant, god-like _creature_ , and the Conqueror.

Yup. They're screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowwiiiieee. you guys ready for a battle royal? :UUUUUUUUUUUU
> 
> also, the stuff about the world and what torgal has said isn't canon-- all made up by me and stuffs. u___u


	13. dhá cheann déag

Maybe they’re not as screwed as Rush has predicted.

At first glance, it may seem as if _all_ of the figures before them are their current foes—which _seriously_ throws Nassau into the red zone if he’s really one of the bad guys—but then at a second look, Rush can hazard a guess at what’s going on.

The huge creature thing seems to be warily regarding the Conqueror, as if about to _attack_ and Rush spots the scarlet-robed man glance towards him in derision. An expected way of acknowledging Rush’s presence, and he doesn’t deny he’s currently— _inwardly_ —egging on the creature that’s floating and being all majestic and _definitely_ isn’t on the Conqueror’s side. Nassau himself doesn’t even look like he’s paying attention to the upcoming fight at all—no, he’s looking directly at _Rush_ and he seems the same as ever except… those eyes are strangely _luminous_ , even at this distance. They aren’t _glowing_ , but they’re hard to miss as well.

Before Rush can even say anything, Dave’s there in front of him, an arm swept to the side to keep Rush back and he starts to frown at the realization. He steps forward, about to physically protest that he won’t _let_ Dave protect him—because there’s the burning desire to protect him _instead_ —but then the blond looks back at him.

“Don’t, Rush.” He says firmly. His features are hardened and it’s _here_ that Rush gets it. “I won’t let you die.”

So Dave heard him and Irina then. The two main people he didn’t want knowing about his possible future now _know_ , and it hasn’t even been more than two days. Good going, Rush.

Nassau is suddenly moving towards them, a little, _pleased_ smile upon his lips that’s incredibly _odd_ to see upon those features. There’s something _dark_ about him, something that hadn’t been there before, but Rush isn’t sure what.

“Rush _._ ” Nassau speaks in a warm tone, somehow both grating and _lulling_ at the same time. Yet, his voice is… _strange_. It’s _unsettling_ in a way that Rush can’t describe, and as Nassau stops a few metres away, he finds he hadn’t been wrong about those eyes, now incredibly vibrant in _nature_. They’ve always been intense, but _this_ kinda intense is just plain _wrong_. Feeling his breath hitch slightly, Rush sees Dave tense up more before him—if that’s even _possible_ —as the older counterpart continues. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been trying to locate you for almost a day straight. I feel a little… dumb now realizing that you’ve been so close this whole time.”

Even the _dialogue_ sounds off. Nassau’s just giving him a _whole_ lotta creeps but it seems like Dave hasn’t caught on it yet. Rush has the feeling that he doesn’t really _want_ to. Still, surely it’s not really _Nassau_ before them because he wouldn’t act like this. Heck, Rush has been in his presence enough to _know_ this.

The younger blond steps forward suddenly, eyes narrowed. “Then you’re to blame for Rush’s sickness? Why did you take him here?” There is _anger_ riding on his tone—barely suppressed but the Duke is somehow as composed as ever.

The smouldering gaze seems to grow in interest upon finally acknowledging similar hues. Nassau’s smile grows larger. “He got sick? My bad.” The fake remorse in his tone only seems enough for dropping a cherry on the floor and nothing more. “I was… impatient, so I sped up the process. It didn’t seem to do any good, though.” His gaze drifts once more to Rush, eyes narrowing dangerously as the next words chill him to the bone.

“You’re late to your funeral, Rush.”

Rush feels the immediate denial crawl up his throat, yet still involuntarily takes a step back at such words.

 _He_ can’t _be Dave. Dave wouldn’t say that to me…_

He even hears the _present_ Dave _hiss_ at the threat—a completely _new_ sound that Rush hasn’t heard before, to be perfectly honest—but he’s getting out his sword regardless. Rush does the same, though he wonders what exactly they can do against Nassau and the creature as well as the Conqueror. He tries to banish such thoughts; he wants to beat himself up for giving up so early on—he hasn’t even _tried_ yet, after all.

Still, just hearing those words come from Nassau’s mouth—just hearing it come from those lips at _all_ is disheartening, and Rush doesn’t want to truly believe it. He knows there’s something _more_ going on. Nassau won’t act like this otherwise.

Is it really the older Dave before them now? Or someone… some _thing_ else entirely?

Nassau turns suddenly, hands clasped behind his back. “You’ll have to meet my friend. It’s known as—“ And here, there’s some sort of _alien_ dialect coming from the man’s mouth. A language strange and _unnerving_ that Rush can’t recall the correct syllables that’d been uttered, if there’d been any at all. Nassau continues in the common language, chuckling as if sensing the unease. “An odd name, I know. Perhaps you’ll know it as the Fallen. Mitras are certainly creative, aren’t they?”

As if sensing its name uttered, the Fallen tilts it’s head towards Nassau. It’s body _twitches_ in a creepy way, but otherwise Rush isn’t blind to the _power_ literally _radiating_ off the thing. However, he _does_ recognize the name—a sovani in Baaluk had mentioned it to him once, someone named Wyngale, he thinks.

He decides to turn his attention to the Conqueror—but then behind _him_ Rush sees a Remnant, shaped like some sorta huge, dark memorial. Is that the one the Conqueror’s after here? If it was, then his plans have obviously taken a detour for the worse.

“The Fallen is supposed to be a weapon for the World.” Nassau is saying now. His tone is steadily becoming darker, an uglier _shroud_ encompassing it. “It’s _supposed_ to be _serving_ the World. Unfortunately, it strayed a little from its path, but it’s learning now to hunt the Remnants that it had lost to so many years ago.”

There’s a derisive ‘hmph’ heard from the Conqueror. The man looks once more at Rush, and ultimately Rush fails to interpret _whatever_ message he’s trying to get across because even as he’s in shock, there’s a revelation swimming to the forefront of his mind, _goaded_ by Nassau’s words.

 _The Conqueror is a_ Remnant?!

Rush shouldn’t be surprised. He really _shouldn’t_ because here Rush is, a Remnant _himself_ and the Conqueror _knew_ —he _knew_ because why _else_ would he keep on telling Rush to _awaken_?

The Conqueror doesn’t say anything. He looks back towards the being across from him and not a second later he begins to glow a menacing crimson. The Fallen returns it’s attention to the man and before it can even _register_ the change in it’s opponent, there’s a blur of _vermillion_ and suddenly the Conqueror is _there_ before the Fallen, the Valeria Heart _soaring_ right for its current foe and—

One of the Fallen’s hand is cut clean off.

 The accompanying roar is _deafening_ and the Fallen _glows_ with an unearthly light, following the Conqueror’s smooth descent onto the ground with the amputated limb but even _then_ it starts to grow back, an aura of _gold_ encompassing the arm and readily _restoring_ the lost hand and _immediately_ does it lash out at the Conqueror who turns only very _slightly_ before disappearing and appearing once more with ease behind the Fallen.

“Sometimes my weapons can be disappointing.” Nassau is suddenly remarking, and his tone has lost that strange darkness, now only reflecting his words. The three by-standing mitras watch as the Conqueror effortlessly slashes down at the Fallen’s back, eliciting the inhumane _scream_ yet once more does the golden aura flow to restore the wounds, even as it’s opponent is suddenly _relentless_ in his blows, using the Valeria Heart with _deadly_ precision and _speed_ and arcs of incandescent _bulbs_ flow from the injuries like _blood_ yet just as fast it’s _restored_ before the Fallen seems to have enough of it, a hand shooting out with the intent to _crush_ the Conqueror but once more he _shimmers_ away—!

Rush’s eyes shoot to Nassau once more, wrenching his attention from the fight. The words he’s said have registered, and horror starts to coalesce within Rush’s expression. Striding forward—ignoring the hissed reprimand from Dave—he can’t help the worry in his tone.

“What’d you do?” He asks, breathing faster in apprehension. “What’d you do to Dave?”

Maybe he’s worded it weirdly—for Dave is right _behind_ him but Dave is also _before_ him. It’s not like Rush will stop caring for him, even if he is from another time altogether.

“Rush?” Dave asks softly, but the Sykes’ gaze is fixated on Nassau.

The older blond turns partially, and Rush can see the strange smile return. This isn’t Nassau. This isn’t Nassau _at all_.

“Nothing.” Nassau claims calmly in answer to his question. “In a way, he did this to himself. Sold his soul for power and _all_ , if I’m not mistaken. It’s the same as how one would enter into a binding with a Remnant, though of course _my_ Magick is a bit more _exclusive_. I don’t let myself be controlled unlike your lot.”

Derision for Remnants. Claiming that Magick itself is _his_. Even as Rush starts to piece it together, he feels like he’s already known the answer all along.

Dave steps up beside Rush, eyes narrowing in consternation. “You’re the World.” He finally voices Rush’s thoughts in quiet realization.

It’s like the air has become thinner just by the mere _acknowledgement_ of the being before them. His mind blanks immediately, unable to conjure up anything to do or _say_ because what _can_ one do in the presence of… well, the _World_? And it’s obvious now that it’s _against_ them, against _Rush_ if it has wanted to kill Rush so _badly_.

It? He? She? Rush isn’t sure what to even _consider_ World as. Then again, that’s probably not the most important question right now.

“I am.” The World says in Nassau's voice. It moves his body the way it wills, and Rush feels sick the more the thought settles in his mind. Blindly, he reaches out for the present Dave, gripping his hand tightly as if to make sure _he’s_ safe at the very least. Just seeing Nassau like this is making anxiety fire up in him like a _rocket_ , panic overwhelming his senses because how can he _help_ him? How can he _save_ him from the World, from the contract he’s entered into? While it may not _seem_ like there’s not much harm being done to the man, there’s just so many things _wrong_ with the image before Rush and he feels his head go into _overdrive_ upon trying to think up _some_ sort of solution.

"Let him go." Rush says in a barely controlled tone. He's angry, because how _dare_ the World treat Dave like _this_? Like he's some sorta _plaything_ to just be casually used? "Let him go _now_."

"Why should I?" The World asks softly; the words are almost hard to hear for behind it, the Fallen emits a high-pitched sound as the Conqueror is enveloped in that golden light before crashing hard into the ground. Rush honestly can't care less. "David Nassau freely gave himself to me for the power that I offered. He knew the consequences and..." Abruptly, the World suddenly yawns. A hand is lazily lifted to his lips as they open wide involuntarily, eyes narrowing to slits. Rush would've thought it cute, if not for the fact that it isn't exactly _Nassau_ in control right now.

Teeth gritting, he steps forward to do _something_. It doesn’t sit well at _all_ with him, Nassau being _controlled_ like this but then—

The present Dave moves suddenly, the hand that Rush had let go of before accidentally now making contact once more, gently curling around Rush’s forearm in a hesitant motion. For a moment, the Sykes almost jumps away from the contact, a reaction that _confuses_ him because it’s as if whatever fear he’d been trying to overcame just raised _exponentially_ just by such a touch. However, he manages to still his beating heart, readily _hating_ how spooked he’s becoming now. He remembers the numerous people he’s met on his travels, even his own _companions_ and Dave _himself_ commenting on how _brave_ he is and he’s taken that to heart, has tried to keep _up_ such an attitude, if only to be _strong_ for everyone else.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he muscles down the jumpiness, utterly irked at himself for feeling this way—yet even as he reprimands himself inwardly, Dave’s next words stop him short.

“Don’t bother, Rush.”

A sharp inhale and then Rush is turning, eyes narrowed to slits because for a second there, he _thought_ he heard Dave saying _not to care_ —

“I mean it, Rush.” The blond looks him square in the eye, composure calm and steady even as Rush’s own begins to wreak a maelstrom. “Don’t worry about him. If he’s chosen to accept the World’s offer while knowing of the consequences, then don’t try to save him.”

Rush swallows.

“Dave.” He starts shakily. “Dave, I _can’t_. It’s _you_ and—how _can_ I—?!”

“ _He is **not** me_.”

The sudden heat behind the Duke’s words is unexpected and a little _frightening_. The glare Rush is treated with is something that _withers_ him admittedly, and he tries not to let his already low mood drop even _further_ in fright from the sheer antagonist _vibe_ he is getting from the other right now.

Dave’s eyes flicker to somewhere behind him—perhaps to keep an eye on Nassau—and a quiet exhalation escapes him. “Sorry, Rush.” He murmurs, gaze fixating on him once more with gentleness in his tone. There’s no sign of the previous fury. “I just… I _refuse_ to be him. I won’t _let_ myself be him, especially if it means that I’d be hurting my people… or you.”

Immediately, he feels kinda bad for jumping the gun. Dave must be more stressed about this than he can imagine, and Rush has only ever been pouring all his problems on the Duke so it’s natural the other _has_ to unwind. When they get back from this trip—Rush tries to ignore the echoing _if_ in the back of his head—he needs to sit down with Dave and just _help_ him. He’ll make sure it won’t be about himself, just _Dave_ and maybe that’s something the Duke _needs_. So long has he been taking care of others—of a whole _city_ —that he’s probably forgotten how to take care of himself.

Well, Rush is _definitely_ going to be the one taking care of _him_ from now on.

He almost doesn’t notice how Dave tenses before him and immediately whirls around to warily regard Nassau—the _World_ —watching them with that strange little smile.

“That’s cute.” He— _they_? It? Rush still isn’t sure, but the comment is unsettling. The World looks straight at him with Nassau’s eyes and he feels his wariness rise once more if possible. But then that smouldering gaze suddenly moves to Dave, and Rush doesn’t like the way his expression intensifies, as if with some sorta _idea_. A possibly very _bad_ idea for them.

Nassau takes a step forward suddenly and the caution rapidly spikes within Rush and he quickly grasps David’s forearm, as if to make sure he’s alright as well. Against the World, he doesn’t think there’s any _real_ power that can be used to fight or harm it. Rush refuses to physically attack either, considering Nassau himself being held as a hostage of sorts.

In a situation like this, they really _are_ screwed.

“You aren’t thinking of retreating, are you?” Nassau’s gaze is fixated upon Dave. Rush glances over upon feeling him tense, guessing that the blond probably _was_ thinking of possible escape routes because what else can they do in this situation? They’re both underpowered and _outnumbered_. Most of their powerful spells can’t be conducted without the others and even _then_ how are they sure that it’d work on a being as powerful as the _World_? Maybe they can try use the Gae Bolg and Rush’s Talisman, but Rush doesn’t think it’ll be enough.

No. No, he can’t give up yet. There has to be _something_ they can do. They have to _try_ , at the very least.

But then the World continues, and Nassau’s voice grows softer with each syllable. “David Nassau… are you afraid?”

“Not of you.” Dave’s answer is immediate, his stance firm and strong and Rush makes sure to stand by him to give him _some_ support, warily eyeing the figure before them.

The World’s eyes briefly slide to Rush before returning. “Of yourself, then?”

Dave doesn’t answer.

Rush remains silent, not entirely sure _where_ this is going but he’s decided to cling to the hope that maybe Irina and the others are coming to their position right now. He’s not sure when the reinforcements will show up, but they have to stall _somehow_ , right?

He inches forward slightly so as to keep Dave’s form a bit behind him, thinking to keep _whatever_ the World is planning from harming Dave. He knows that there’s _something_ coming, because why else would the entity seem so… distantly _pleased_ with itself?

And when they get back to Athlum, Rush is _definitely_ pulling Dave aside and discussing some things with him. The silence emanating ironically speaks a _lot_ for the Duke, and Rush’s concern rises once more.

“You asked for power, and you received it.” The World is now saying, and the voice is strangely gentle and—to probably only Rush— _lulling,_ and it is a tone that sounds so _nice_ to the ears and… he tries to shake himself out of it. This isn’t Nassau, the future Dave. This is the World, the _enemy_ who is using Dave’s body as a mere _host_ , a _puppet_ and no matter what, Rush shouldn’t be fooled. “You bound the Gae Bolg at such a young age, but even then you knew the power it held, did you not? You knew what needed to be done with it. You knew you had to protect your city.” Nassau’s lip curls in a pleasant way. “When I came to you in the future, you were without the might of the Gae Bolg; _powerlessness_ was not something that suited you.

“Oh sure, you had the weaker side of Magick. What do mitra call it, Mystic Arts? They did not… suffice for you, did they? You felt you needed _more_ and so you turned to the more _recluse_ side of Magick, seeing it as a way to broaden your skillset so as to _overcome_ the adversities that faced you as one of the most renowned leaders in the world.” The World tilts Nassau’s head then in that familiar way that Dave does, and Rush feels his breath catch in his throat. He glances at the present Dave, and sees a strange, unreadable expression upon his face. Rush can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.

Teeth baring in irritation, he steps forward, letting go of Dave’s arm in the process. “What’s your point?!” He asks, aggravation clear in his tone. The World isn’t just gonna keep prattling on, is it?

“Well.” Nassau’s smile turns sly as he glances at Rush. "I'm merely saying that it's necessary for David to obtain Magick, whether or not your future sacrifice comes to pass."

It’s here that Rush feels a little guilty _again_ for something that he still _hasn’t even done yet_. Getting rid of all the Remnants… he wouldn’t _truly_ do that, right? But then, he supposes it’s plausible, considering the harm they’ve brought to mankind.

( _would you blame the **weapon**? or the one who has **used** it?_ )

The voice is quiet, contemplative. Death-like.

Rush’s gaze is drawn to the Remnant nearby, ominous among the vibrant greenery of the forest, overlooking the destructive fight going on between the Conqueror and the Fallen, still happening a significant distance away (and it _seems_ like the Conqueror is winning—Rush isn’t too sure anymore on who to root for).

But can he… really blame the Remnants?

( _blame?_ ) the Remnant whispers to him. ( _whoever you choose to blame, we will stand behind you_ )

 _The_ _hearth?_

But then Dave speaks, wrenching Rush’s attention away from the Remnant as he steps up beside him. " _What_ future sacrifice? Why _wouldn't_ I have the Gae Bolg?" He demands the answers with wariness, eyes narrowing upon their current adversary—and even briefly glares at Rush himself.

Rush feels himself balk for a moment, ready to defend himself because it’s _really_ not cool to pin something he _still_ hasn’t done yet on him. But then Rush _really_ looks at Dave for a moment because doesn't he know? Hadn't he heard from himself and Irina? But then when he goes over it in his mind, he supposes that Dave wouldn't have heard _why_ Rush died. Indeed, Rush doesn't actually know himself, only hearing what Nassau has said earlier...

"You don't know?" The World blinks in slight confusion. That’s a first. "Irina Sykes has already regained her memories, why haven't you...?"

“I will not accept your contract this time.” Dave says firmly, suddenly. His fists are clenched. “I would rather be powerless than a monster.”

For some reason, Rush feels hurt by those words. Maybe it’s the admission, the _insinuation_ but he recalls how gently Nassau had treated him, the _concern_ within his gaze. Whatever his intentions, Rush fully believes that the future Duke only acts for the love of his people. And, well, Rush.

“You’re not…” He begins, but he falters. He has the feeling Dave won’t believe him anyway. Maybe he can try later, when… when they’re back in Athlum.

“Ah, but a monster that could protect those he loved.” The World seems to enjoy the wordplay, but then—“I’m admittedly… _disappointed_ by your decision, David. You were quite the natural at utilizing Magick—perhaps even surpassing the might of Marion Marshall, a huge _favourite_ of mine. Have you heard of the tale of Queen Flaumello? Marion felled her entire kingdom. Of course, she wouldn’t have done it without my convincing, but I had to see how… _influential_ Remnants can be.”

“You would kill thousands of innocents just to _learn_ something?” Dave sounds disgusted. Rush can’t help but agree, because while they themselves—embroiled previously in feuds and even _now_ with the Conqueror’s lot—are alright battling with _people_ , they knew they were still the enemy. It’d been necessary. But with Queen Flaumello and her kingdom… how many were slaughtered, not even knowing the _cause_?

The World shrugs. “To me, all that live upon my being are not important, like mere _insects_ to mitra. Their lives are of no value to me. Save for… the ones I _nurture_. I admit I’m a little biased.” A laugh echoes and Rush’s chest aches at the sound. He hardly hears Dave laugh. Hearing it like _this_ makes the thought so… _perverse_.

Still, that’s good to know. The World doesn’t think much of people, and he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. This is the _World_ , a being far more powerful than all of them but Rush shoves that thought out of his mind. The World… is the enemy here, it seems, if wanting Rush dead as well as the rest of the Remnants gone isn’t clue enough. It also doesn’t seem to mind taking control of Nassau, and _that’s_ something that has Rush’s stomach turning over.

“That’s enough small talk.”

The World says this softly, but _dangerously_. The pleasant demeanour takes a 180 all of a sudden and it’s _strange_ because the World had not seemed to _mind_ just talking—and neither had _Rush_ to be honest, because there is no _way_ only him and Dave will be able to take him on—but now… now the World is _obviously_ sinister in nature so _suddenly_. All signs of pretend benignity are gone and Rush feels himself tense even _more_ at the increased intensity of that almond gaze.

Dangerous. That’s all Rush can really describe the World as.

And that danger wishes to _hurt_ him.

The World tilts his head once more. “I’ve realised something.” He begins to say, eyes fixating on Rush.

“Rush, get back—“ Dave steps forward, features bared in a ferocious glare and Rush once more has half a mind to shove _him_ back but then—but then Dave suddenly _collapses_ , a _cry_ escaping him as he goes down onto all fours with a harsh thud.

“Dave?!”

Panic shoots up in Rush like a _rocket_ because his mind _really cannot process_ the suddenness of this but he immediately drops down beside the Duke, hands urging Dave to face him and Rush can see the heavy breathing, the sharp _tremors_ and those muscles _rippling_ as if to keep in any screams. Dave’s jaw in clenched and he’s in _pain_ and Rush doesn’t _know_ what—

“I realised that it’s probably useless torturing you.” The World is _still_ continuing matter-of-factly, advancing ever so _slowly_ but Rush isn’t paying attention to that. He’s trying to search Dave for any wound, any at _all_ because the pain can’t be caused by _nothing_ —“You sacrificed yourself in the future, so I have reason to believe you will do _anything_ for those you love, not for just yourself.”

And Dave _screams_ then and the sounds shoots _straight_ to Rush’s heart; Dave’s whole body is _jerking_ and Rush is nearly in _tears_ at this, _trembling_ in worry and he turns immediately to the World, stumbling forward.

“Stop it—STOP IT! Just— _kill_ _me_ if you have to, I don’t care! _Stop hurting him_!” He doesn’t care how much he’s reduced; he doesn’t care how _pathetic_ he may look. All that matters right now is stopping the torture being inflicted on _Dave_ because how _else_ would he be in pain?! “What do you _want_?!”

“What do I want?” The World asks this softly amid the sharp, agonized _gasps_ that Rush is _painfully_ aware of. Nassau’s body moves forward then, a small, dangerous smile upon his features as he halts just before Rush’s form. He leans down and the Sykes freezes as he leans close and for a moment, Rush thinks the World is going to _kiss_ him but then lips ghost across the shell of his right ear.

The whispered words turn his blood to stone.

“ _I want you to **awaken**._ ”

_Why…?_

He swallows harshly.

The World pulls back very slightly and looks at him then, so _close_ and its gaze seems to be searching for something even _deeper_ than Rush Sykes.

And Rush feels that very something _stir_.

“Do you hear me?” The other’s voice is soft and _deep_ and _penetrating_ at the same time. There’s something _else_ accompanying that tone, and Rush feels the entirety of his being _shudder_ in response. There’s _panic_ rising at this situation, but he feels frozen to the spot. Alarms ring in the back of his head but there’s a dissonant note _singing_ in his core.

“I tire of _dreaming_.” The World _hisses_ , and the truth dawns.

_It is said that a sole Remnant was born to seal the World and keep it dormant, and the Remnant itself would sleep forever as the sacrifice._

**_The Remnant would sleep forever as the sacrifice_.**

“I’m not…” Rush begins hollowly, horrified eyes looking up at Nassau retreats once more. “I’m not…” He repeats, struggling to get the words out this time.

“You don’t know?” The World asks, and it’s as if it’s back to its pleasantries once more. “Unsurprising.”

“Well I can’t, okay?” Rush feels his voice tremble. He hates it. “I _can’t_.” He can’t force something he hadn’t known _existed_ in the first place. But—he _has_ to, right? To save _Dave_. Because of Rush, _Dave’s_ being tortured and he feels that lingering desperation come back, momentarily halted in light of the revelation.

“Just—don’t hurt him. _Please_. Don’t…!” His pleading words steadily become more jumbled up in his anxiety and he steps forward, not entirely _caring_ what consequences await him but he just wants— _needs_ —!

“Look, you can take me, you can _torture_ me, I _really don’t care_ but just leave my friends and family out of this! It’s _me_ you’re after!”

“See, that’s the thing.” The World says patiently, placating as if it’s speaking to a child. “ _You won’t care_. Now, if I do _this—_ “ His gaze flicks over to Dave and he’s _screaming_ again and Rush feels his blood _boil_ in response as he’s dropping to his _knees_ beside the blond, hugging him tightly and trying to _assure_ him because Dave’s in pain, _sweating_ under the duress and he seems like he’s barely _breathing_ —!

“Please. _Please **don’t**_ —!“ Rush chokes out, gaze swivelling to the World once more and he wishes he can _do_ something, he wishes he can just take the pain into _himself_ because this is _killing_ him inside, just seeing Dave like this and unable to do _anything_ —

“—You’re more likely to respond like _that_.” The World finishes as if it hadn’t heard Rush’s words. “I have this planned out, you know? Sleeping for almost a thousand years and then being semi- _aware_ of it tends to help. I had time to analyse you too through this body, its _memories_ and I know how you’re like, Rush Sykes. You’d do anything for family.” Those lips twist, cruel and certain. “And I know you wouldn’t hurt those precious to you either. That’s why I chose this body. I’m quite ingenious, aren’t I?”

The World is right, of course. What can Rush _do_ in these circumstances? He can’t hurt Nassau—but he can’t let _Dave_ get hurt either. The desperation heightens and he squeezes his eyes shut. There’s only one _sure_ way out of this but how? How can he _awaken_ if he doesn’t know _how_?! He remembers Dave’s words suddenly, the night before they’d left, and hugs the blonde’s form tighter to himself. It's easier to feel the agony surely _wracking_ his body and Rush bows his head, searching desperately inside himself for _some_ sort of answer.

"I'm sorry, Dave." He whispers brokenly, and casts a _multitude_ of defense arts, recovery arts, trying to alleviate the pain in _some_ way (though he knows, he _knows_ it won’t work against the might of the _World_ ). He doesn't know how aware Dave is of his surroundings, but he repeats his words nonetheless. "I'm so sorry."

“You aren’t awakening.” The World sounds disappointed and Rush wouldn’t have let that affect him, but then the entity continues. “Does David Nassau’s life matter that _little_ to you, Rush? Are you deciding _not_ to awaken, are you refusing to _save_ him?”

Rush shakes, and he finds he cannot bear to look up or even at Dave. In a way, the World’s right. Why _can’t_ he awaken? Even faced with this—he can’t even do something so _simple_. But… it’s not as if he isn’t _trying_ so that has to… count for something right…?

“ _Selfish_.” The World hisses, and the word grates at his conscience.

“Shut up.” Rush whispers, squeezing his eyes closed. He can do this. He can awaken. _He can do_ _this_ —!

“Rush, don’t.”

His eyes shoot open at the breathed words, and dark hues widen upon seeing Dave looking straight at him. Whatever pain he’s feeling right now, Dave looks as if he’s trying to _conceal_ it even in _this_ state and Rush wants to both shake him and _kiss_ him at the same time. Same old Dave. And here’s Rush panicking and _still unable to save him_.

“No, Rush, _do_.” The World seems irritated at the interruption, and the tremors _increase_ in Dave, Rush can _feel_ it and he _knows_ that more _agony_ is being distributed through Dave’s form but he’s still _looking_ at him and he’s still somehow so _calm_ and _poised_. In comparison, Rush feels weak but Dave’s _trying_ , he _knows_ he is because Dave’s clutching at his arm now, as tightly as he _can_ and he’s looking right at Rush with _fire_ in his eyes.

Even in the face of such adversity, even while being _tortured_ , Dave’s still trying to reassure him.

“Don’t you _dare_.” Dave says, and his voice is breathy yet _strong_ but it’s so damn _obvious_ that he’s in pain and Rush fidgets as a result, incredibly _undecided_ because if he doesn’t then _Dave_ will suffer but then here’s Dave telling him _not_ to. The indecision rises, and Rush is cognizant that with each passing _second_ that the agony is _heightening_ for Dave and his mind is a whirlpool of _whatdoIdowhatdoIdo_ amidst the turmoil of desperately wanting Dave to be _okay_ and that strange _stirring_ in his being—

Abruptly, the World yawns.

Rush begins to look up but the tremors wracking Dave’s body cease _immediately_ and he immediately checks whether the blond is okay.

“Dave?” He whispers, and quickly starts to get up. “We have to go. Now.” He won’t risk Dave getting hurt again, and Rush knows he’s basically _helpless_ against the World ( _especially_ in Nassau’s body). Dave doesn’t seem to be able to function anytime soon and he’s readily gathering the other in his arms, perhaps to carry him _bridal_ style but then Dave swats at his grip, standing shakily on his own.

“Let’s go, then.” Dave shoots a weak smile at him, but the image is not entirely _reassuring_ when it’s punctuated by trembles. “I’m alright, Rush.”

And they _would_ have left immediately, they would’ve been _long_ gone by the time the World recovered from its sleepy spell but then Rush falters as something inside him _pulsates_. It takes a moment for him to realise he’s faintly _glowing_ by the look on Dave’s face, and from the hue being reflected on the blond’s form.

“Rush,” Dave starts slowly, staring at him. “What’s wrong?”

He opens his mouth to answer but he’s interrupted by another yawn behind them. Rush doesn’t want to look, just in case the World is already _rearing_ to go for another round.

However, beyond _that_ , _roars_ are heard, alien and _deafening_ and it takes a moment for Rush to realise the Conqueror and the Fallen have long gone, perhaps continuing their fight in the forestry nearby. However, even as the pained sounds reverberate, there’s an influx of Remnant power that Rush can feel in his very _being_ (and that _something_ stirs so much _more_ through a mere _fluctuation_ ) and can hear through his _mind_.

( _it is THERE itisthere—_

 _IT is he ~~re **the**~~_ ~~~~)

 _Whispers_ , a multitude of _voices_ all _murmuring_ the same _thing_ , ~~mumbling~~ _screaming_ about the same **_entity_** —

(   ~~**{**~~ **WORLD _ENEMY_ DESTROYER _LIFE-GIVER_ ~~}~~**

_~~doyourduty~~_

_~~ward~~_ _en_  
warDEN  
**WARDEN** )

–and the _Conqueror_ is suddenly _there_ , right _behind_ Nassau, the Valeria Heart raised to _strike_ within the next few _nanoseconds_ —!

“No—NO!!” Rush begins to _yell_ because he _knows_ what’s coming next and he doesn’t _want_ that, he doesn’t want Dave to be hurt at _all_ , present _or_ future and he wants to do something, _anything_ to get there on time and prevent the Conqueror from _harming_ him somehow because the World is there, _unmoving_ even as _Rush_ moves and—he thinks he detects the faintest, pleased _smirk_ upon tan features before—?!

Something cracks in him.

“Rush— _STOP_ —!!”

He barely has time to register Dave’s words behind him before he’s _incandescent_ with viridian light.

His thoughts slow to a mere _hum_ and the previous panic and desperation halt to a quiet murmur in the back of his mind. He breathes a little slower, and takes in the current situation once more, though this time at a leisurely pace.

The flow of time is _his_ to command, after all.

He moves forward slowly, vibrant green hues examining the figures before him. There is David Nassau of the future, though his very being is _riddled_ with the entity that is the World; there is David Nassau of _this_ time, almost touching his form with an outstretched hand and the look upon his face is… strangely heart-breaking.

He dismisses the strange lurch in his chest.

And there—there’s the _Conqueror_. His lips purse the slightest bit. Memories of _him_ aren’t the fondest but there are still traces of kinship to be found… even if the Conqueror _did_ try to kill him.

What a funny name the man goes by now.

He’s aware of a struggle, then. One _against_ his power and he tilts his head very slightly, sees the prowess _amassing_ within the World’s current host. It never did like how he paused time at will, but now it may be remembering how to go _against_ his control, like it did so many centuries ago.

Still, he knows he shouldn’t be awake. He shouldn’t even be _conscious_. He should be fast asleep, but he imagines the Conqueror has been meddling with him. The other Remnant always did like playing by his own rules, after all, even if he doesn’t truly understand what’s at stake. However, he knows he hasn’t fully awakened yet. No, this is just a _glimpse_ , an opportunity to see what’s going on.

And, maybe, he just wanted to acknowledge David Nassau in his own right. _He_ adores him, after all.

It takes a moment for him to decide on what to do.

He sighs, and closes his eyes. Time to sleep. Time to _dream_. He shouldn’t be awake, despite the desire to know what is going on and how he can help. But now that he’s taken in the situation, he can at least rest and so _force_ the World into resting with him fully once more. At least now he can wake up prepared if there ever came such a time. In a way, he’s just getting even with the World—it’s cheated its prison without him truly being aware.

( _awake? awake?_ )

He smiles at the sound of the Dead Heart. An old friend of his.

( _rest assured. i will take care of everything_ )

Perhaps the Dead Heart and the group that is very soon to arrive because of his interference will be enough to make the World think twice. Especially since one of them will be _himself_.

“Thank you.” He says aloud, tone low yet grateful.

He lets go then, and Rush barely has enough time to register the sudden _awareness_ flooding back into him and he jerks back, remembering what he was _doing_ but even as he looks forward, he sees a silhouette of pure _emerald_ before him, features a twist of ferocity and flaring _viridian_ , blocking the Conqueror from harming Nassau and Nassau _himself_ is crumpling to the ground, and Rush’s vision unexpectedly _blurs_.

Gasping, he stumbles back, colliding with a soft embrace and out of the corner of his eye he can see an encompassing _glow_ surround the area, incandescent in _nature_ and he sees _more_ people arriving, among them his _sister_ and her form is _blazing_ with _light_ , the marks of her Magick spread through her face and neck and _hands_ and her very _eyes_ are a cobalt _fire_.

But his vision is rapidly darkening, weariness overtaking his being and he wants to be more alert to _help_ but he’s being lowered to the ground even as he finds he can’t move his limbs, and he feels arms coiling around him securely, detecting that earthy scent once more.

“Rush?!”Dave’s shaking him slightly, but his voice is getting fainter. “Rush, what’s wrong?!”

He wants to respond, but his functions are readily depleting. Eyes slide shut, and the last thing he’s aware of is a distant whisper that follows him into oblivion.

( **_caite iarsma_** )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i am sorry i literally filled this whole chapter with dialogue and like the tiniest bit of action wheezes lkjaklsjf  
> i juST REALLY SUCK AT WRITING FIGHTING SCENES I APOLOGIZE lkjaslkfj.  
> i hope this suffices tho???? wheezes. 
> 
> lemme know if any of you would like to see the fighting in the next chapter, or if you'd like me to just carry on as normal! i'd really appreciate the opinion!
> 
> ALSO please please please please let me know what YOU think is going on! it helps me out a lot, because since i know the plot it's hard to discern what the readers know and what they don't and it helps me avoid plotholes. the subject can be any part of this but please just let me know your thoughts, readers!
> 
> otherwise, THANK YOU SO much for so much kudos!!!! i'm so happy to see it at the number that it's at right now because i honestly didn't expect it to rise this high kljaskfj so THANK YOU and thanks for reading this fic and giving it your time!!!! <3
> 
> anywho, i hope y'all enjoyed (despite the dave torture iamsorrynotsorry)


	14. trí déag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologise for the super long wait!!! here is... idk how many words but!!! i hope it's worth such a long wait xD enjoy!

 

She is _power_.

She moves with grace and _confidence_ , incandescent lights _lifting_ her every step; they are slow and _deliberate_ , each paced with cognizance towards her surrounds, towards her current _companions_ and the very _enemy_ that now dwells before her. Her eyes are twin pools of _fire_ , her every motion _emblazoned_ with the prowess of her _Blessing_ and it does not falter, does not _flicker_ in its might and she _knows_ this, she knows the extent of her _knowledge_ and control of the pure _energy_ coursing through her very _veins_ and in many ways it is _limitless_. There are no boundaries she has to adhere to in _this_ space, right here, right _now_ and she does not _hesitate_ in utilizing it, the familiarity brought to her via her own memories that are like a _tidal_ wave on their own.

The marks across her body _pulsate_ like a living thing in time with her power, her _will_ and they spread across even the _ground_ she halts upon, spreading like _wildfire_ and they seem to _stay_ , rooting upon the earth like it is its own kin, rooting _her_ before the towering presence of the _god_ weapon _FALLEN_ as it stares at her, the _WORLD_ a spherical influence within its very mind.

She sees it. She sees the being that has spawned the very power she wields. She can _sense_ the World, its currents—its _life_ —beneath the ground, running through and _with_ the earth, _living_ within every aspect yet it’s light pulsates very _faintly_. Still dormant, still _sleeping_ but there is a _concentrated_ tangent, one only _now_ fading from the unconscious form of Nassau. The thin tendrils of energy disperse back into the ground and disappear.

And there—there is the _Conqueror_ , someone who _is_ susceptible to her Blessing to an extent but she cannot _afford_ to take her concentration off the Fallen despite the overwhelming desire to help both her brother and his _future_ self but then—perhaps Sykes doesn’t _need_ help, fiercely landing blow after _blow_ upon the Conqueror, pushing him _away_ from Nassau relentlessly.

“Rush.”

The whisper is snatched from her lips, thrown into the roaring winds in her ears and swallowed up with ease.  She remembers her brother, young and vibrant and full of life— _smiling_ even as he disappears, selflessness that she _abhors_ on a deeper level—but then from her memories come a _darker_ figure, one that _sleeps_ yet is _awake_ , those strange markings _spiralling_ across his features and for a moment, she thinks she may have _witnessed_ those markings before but the thought itself is swept away by the Fallen now bearing upon her, a palpable _force_ that is wholly hard to push back.

But… she can _do_ this. She _has_ to.

 _She can’t fail like last time_.

“I’ve got this!”

Her yell is not so easily swallowed—it is heard and the Generals, recovering from the transportation behind her, move _fast_ now, fanning out and engaging the Conqueror even as he swiftly avoids Sykes’s and now _their_ attacks as well. At the very least, they’ve got the man on the move—perhaps even on the _retreat_ but Irina focuses her full energies and attention on the Fallen once more, _feeling_ it resist her power and Marion’s Blessing _grows_ , the incandescent light enveloping both her _and_ the Fallen amidst the terrible cacophony the Fallen emits, as well as the sheer _force_ that is buffeted against her own field of power.

Her hands are held before her, the spherical, intricate orb surrounding them glows brighter than _ever_ , and she feels _tiredness_ sweep her being but she _has_ to hold this, she _must_. The Fallen does not physically move, but it doesn’t even _need_ to. Just a mere _gesture_ and the full brunt of its prowess is delivered unto her and it is _massive_. The creature doesn’t _seem_ to be struggling, and here Irina is, on the verge of _collapse_ , her arms shaking to uphold the invisible field of negation against the Fallen and she feels sweat _beading_ upon her forehead at the duress.

_I can do this._

_I can **do** this!_

She knows its intent—she knows what it had been _created_ to do, so many years ago. She can recall the precise information from her recently gained memories. This creature is the _World’s_ doing, something to annihilate all and any Remnants from the land and so its sole purpose _here_ is to annihilate the Conqueror, annihilate _Rush_ and she won’t _let_ it do that, she won’t _let_ it—!

“ _Don’t **touch** him!_ ” She _screams_ into the roar of her power, _intertwining_ with the very _palpability_ of it and it is a force that _shakes_ the Fallen before her, makes it _falter_ in its previous stance and she feels it _reverberate_ its own guttural tones, its _ferocity_ but she can be _just_ as fierce, just as _stubborn_ and it surely _sees_ that—

And now, _now_ she can see how much it is _shaken_ by her might, confused by the sheer _power_ demonstrated and used against it and it _writhes_ , keening invisible _screams_ in an effort to get away from her and ultimately it lets down its defence, accidentally allows itself to be _overtaken_ by the wave of her Magick and it _withers_ , is _eradicated_ into fine, fading _dust_ and—

Gone.

* * *

 

After Rush falls, there is a cacophony of _confusion_.

Eyes wide, David is frozen for a second, taking in the prone form of Rush and subconsciously he clutches the younger male’s frame to himself tighter, _protectively_. There are still jolts of _pain_ running through his limbs due to the earlier duress forced upon him by the World, but they are easy to ignore in favour of seeing to Rush.

Automatically, he glances back to make sure that the Conqueror is still occupied with Rush’s older counterpart and finds that that is an assurance he doesn’t entirely _need_.

Sykes is a _whirlwind_ of power, his very _body_ alight with those strange markings, _blazing_ with viridian light and his eyes are _likewise_ , burning with determination and _protectiveness_ because the Conqueror’s goal is _clear_ , attempting to get to the collapsed form of Nassau and _striking_ but _Sykes_ is there, blocking every attempt, _averting_ every attack with such precision and _accuracy_ that the Conqueror seems to be backing _away_ , inch by _inch_ —

David’s gaze quickly transfers to where he’d seen a _different_ light become incandescent, and sees Irina a source of fire _herself_ ; her hair whips around delicate features yet even _that_ visage is hardened with ferocity and wisdom that seemingly goes _far_ beyond her current years.

But… _beneath_ such a strong exterior, he sees her faltering, the _weakness_ embedding itself into every fissure of her frame and it seems to be taking a _heavy_ toll on her. Marion’s Blessing takes a lot out of her, so he can only _imagine_ what this much usage of her power—of _Magick_ itself—will result in on her health.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his Generals approaching, Emmy slower than the others (perhaps because of indecision, judging by her hesitance to make her way to either her Lord or charge) and he makes a sharp gesture at her, eyes connecting with hers briefly before she gets the message and immediately makes her way back towards Irina. David only hopes that they’ll _both_ be safe, but he trusts Irina and Emmy to take care of each other _and_ themselves.

His gaze flicks immediately over to Rush once more, and David feels his previous confusion and apprehension over this situation become distanced from his mind—he practically _forces_ it away. Operating under stress is not something that is uncommon in his position, and he’s learned to get used to it, to work _with_ it for while it may be an emotion meant to hinder, he turns it into an emotion to _help_.

Right now, his first priority is to get everyone to safety. Sykes and the Conqueror are _far_ too close for his liking, and though Nassau may be unconscious, the World is still a threat he has to consider.

Very briefly, he tries shaking Rush, brows knitted in concern and the worry escalates upon seeing no response. Only lax and unresponsive features greet him, yet they also seem to be _peaceful_ , as if… _sleeping_.

“Rush?” He breathes out. He tries to ignore his trembling form, the rapid beating of his heart, and tunes his ears to _any_ response Rush may show.

Nothing.

Lips thin. Whatever happened, David only hopes that Rush will wake from this state. Surely it won’t be like the coma John Sykes was forced into by Wagram (and he tries to ignore the fact that the origin of Rush’s unnatural sleep is perhaps far more _powerful_ than _anything_ that Wagram could ever have accomplished), something that regrettably lasted a little more than half a year.

“Young master!” Blue enters his vision, and David’s lips part in shock at the suddenness. However, even as he looks up, he sees Torgal and Pagus engage with the Conqueror as well, only _just_ managing to keep up with Sykes who is _relentless_ in his swift charge against the crimson-hued man.

“We need to go, Blocter.” David says softly, and finds he cannot speak any louder than that. Strange. He thought he’d buried his worry and anxieties about the situation at hand.

“Of course!” Blocter immediately moves to attention, fidgeting as if trying to prevent himself from fussing over the blond. “Lemme take him! You look shaky.” Concern is the emotion that coats Blocter’s voice so readily, and David nods if only to try and ease it.

He leans back as his yamaan general scoops the prone form out of his arms—his heart _aches_ at the sight of the still unresponsive Rush—and clutches him close. David forces himself to stand quickly, trying not to fall over nor show any sign that he _might_. It’ll do no good if they knew anything about what happened prior to them arriving. He’ll tell them at a later date, but for now…

“ _I won’t **let** you!!!_ ”

The cry garners his attention _immediately_ , the _fury_ in such a tone turns his head towards the Conqueror and Sykes and it takes him a moment to realise it’d been the _latter_ who’d hissed such a thing in a venomous tone—a tone he hardly ever hears from Rush, if at _all_. The Conqueror doesn’t seem to be affected by it, and it only takes a second for David to guess what Sykes may be going on about.

 _Don’t bother_ , David remembers himself saying about Nassau. Don’t _bother_ , because he truly doesn’t see any point in saving such a lost cause. Perhaps the thought itself is harsh, but David finds himself being cynically realistic. Nassau is dangerous, and can _clearly_ be taken over by the World’s own whim, which meant that Rush is in danger at any time. And considering the Magick used to summon Rush initially to this place… Nassau seems to be a liability, more than anything else.

Seeing Sykes now though—and even _recalling_ how troubled Rush had been, how _distraught_ upon seeing the World use Nassau like a puppet—David starts to see it now. He gets it, just like how he sees it in his Generals when they’d gazed upon Nassau in the God Emperor’s palace. They saw Nassau not _just_ as another person, as an _enemy_ , but as David. To them, there is no one else _to_ see.

David honestly doesn’t know whether to be touched or not, considering how deeply he wishes for the others to not waste time on Nassau. But then, he really shouldn’t expect any less than those that are loyal to him. He doesn’t think he’d act any different if their positions were switched.

However, David will make sure he won’t betray their loyalty.

He strides forward suddenly, ignoring the surprised call of Blocter.

“ _To **me**!_ ” He _commands_ , his voice _strong_ despite the previous duress being subjected onto him and his stance is _stalwart_ , shoulders set and his gaze squarely meets the Conqueror who turns at the sound. The other blond looks wholly unimpressed, _bored_ even, and Sykes looks up, momentarily distracted from his rage despite only just locking swords with his current opponent from a parry.

Torgal and Pagus immediately understand. Sykes seems to as well after a split second, perhaps guessing as he senses the beginnings of a mystic spell _crackle_ in the air. David takes a steady step forward, bending down to pick up his fallen sword off the ground and wields it tightly in his right hand as he straightens once more. He gathers up whatever energy he _has_ got, his chest burning slightly from the _power_ rising in his being and clutching the hilt in both his hands he thrusts his sword out, a yell tearing from his throat as he unleashes the sheer _force_ from his being and Pagus and Torgal are _there_ along with Sykes—he feels them on _another_ level, their energies buzzing along with his own and interlacing with it, _empowering_ it and it _expands_ , enveloping the Conqueror _immediately_ and _only_ the Conqueror.

The spell is _deadly_ in nature, spreading a _vacuum_ of destruction and the Conqueror _seems_ to flinch, if only a _little_ and for a moment, he seems to try and fight _against_ their combined energies but then—

David hears the Fallen _roar_ beside him, the deafening sound heard _above_ even the disquiet that the arcana brings and he dares a glance to the right, sees the Fallen _dispersing_ and Irina is there, collapsing to her knees but Emmy is there as support, tending to her immediately and out of the corner of his eye, David catches the Conqueror cast a swift glance in their general direction as _well_ even as the spell starts to coalesce and _burn_ —!

The Conqueror is jumping _back_ now, away from them all and the Valeria Heart is slashed horizontally, returning to its current owner’s side. A derisive grunt is heard from the Conqueror and his eyes connect briefly with Sykes, lips moving with words that David cannot make out—

The Conqueror vanishes.

David releases the spell, his breath escaping him in a harsh gasp. Perhaps he sways the smallest bit, for Torgal and Pagus are there immediately, the latter worriedly checking him over and the former standing by him vigilantly, _warily_ , watching Sykes as he straightens up and seemingly absorbing what just occurred.

“Is everyone alright?” He asks, his voice still just as soft as before. He hopes it will not be perceived as weak.

“Yes, My Lord.” Torgal answers as he slowly sheathes his swords. He seems perturbed—as much as a sovani _can_ be—and David doesn’t blame him. “What are your orders?”

David inhales slowly, taking in the situation before him in a like-wise pace. At the very least, things have calmed down enough for him—for _everyone_ —to take a breather and just _process_ everything. Though, when David finally _can_ , there are even _more_ questions he needs answers to than before.

He rolls his shoulders once briefly to alleviate the sudden aches there; a painful throb makes itself known in his chest, but it seems as if Pagus’ healing is enough to keep most of it at bay for now. More likely they’re both from the torture imposed on him by the World before, and he tries not to let his mind linger on that.

His gaze flicks over to Sykes, only to see him kneeling beside Nassau’s form. The shine of blue from his hands is something common to see tonight, and he sees similar lights out of the corner of his eye which he follows immediately. Emmy’s helping Irina to them, but the younger female seems to be recovering on her own. Her eyes are tired and _sad_ , from what David can tell, and he recalls the conversation he’d heard her have with Rush earlier on—something about regaining memories?

“Irina, are you well?” He asks as soon as she’s near. She nods at his words, an exhausted smile crossing her lips before she glances over to the preoccupied Sykes and the prone form of Nassau. He makes the decision quickly, and turns and approaches them, stopping just short of Sykes. The older male’s taken Nassau into his arms, holding him with a heavy frown upon his face as he regards the blond, and only looks up when David’s close enough.

Crouching down, David sees the troubled features upon his older counterpart, even while unconscious. He’s not so sure what he feels towards him, but he’s far more concerned over Sykes himself.

“Rush, you have to come back with us.” Irina comes up behind him, her features solemn as she looks at the future version of her brother. Sykes looks hesitant, opening his mouth to respond, but she beats him to it, perhaps already _knowing_ what he’s about to say. “Don’t tell me you can’t!” She snaps, suddenly furious. “You need to tell us _everything_ that’s going on! We can’t… we can’t do this _blindly_!”

For a moment, Sykes stares at her. Irina’s fists are clenched by her sides and that stubborn streak is coming out, David can see. It’s strange, though. The World claimed that Irina already gained her memories so why is she saying this now? Perhaps not all of them came back after all?

Suddenly, Sykes laughs. It’s a strained sound, forced almost, but a smile comes nonetheless. David can’t tell whether it’s faked or not. “You always did take things so seriously, sis.” He looks down at Nassau, clutching him tighter before his gaze flickers to David himself.

“Please, Rush.” David decides to contribute, unfailing as he keeps the other’s attention. “We need to know.” _He_ needs to know. He needs to know what’s happened, why everything is the way it is, what _future sacrifice_ they all keep talking about, and… and how Sykes is here _now_.

“Okay.” Sykes says quietly then. The mood has sobered quickly and Sykes stands, Nassau carried bridal style in his arms. David glances up in time to see a gentle wind buffet Sykes’s hair as his smile fades.

“Let’s do this.”

* * *

 

Before they can really start any discussion, David makes sure whether Sykes and Irina are up for any _mass_ teleportations. It’s something he’s taken careful note of, and figures will be incredibly handy. The transporters located within every wild location around the world are only limited to just that (though he does remember _some_ research into it put forth by the Academy) but to know that teleportation is accessible via Magick—or just even available at _all_ in the future—, he makes sure to keep track of it. However, the one thing he’s concerned about is whether or not it has a significant strain on their energy.

“Momentarily.” Irina admits, and David sees that she looks even more exhausted than she did a few minutes ago. Best not push it—both Rush _and_ Sykes wouldn’t appreciate it if he did so.

However, when the question is posed to Sykes, a smirk crosses his lips, confidence literally _shining_ from him and David figures _that_ is answer enough. He could’ve probably done without the clear brag that comes afterwards, about how Sykes can do it ‘limitlessly’. David has no problem admitting that he finds the display amusing despite the current situation, but Irina quickly smacks Sykes on the arm for him to get on with it.

Not too soon afterward, David sent Emmy back to find out from the rest of their party whether they wanted to go back home or train up a bit in Darken Forest. He didn’t want to run the risk of Sykes and Nassau being found out, much less the whole _time-travelling_ aspect of things. She came back with the answer that the majority of them wouldn’t mind making their own way back, and David’s relieved at the decision. Handling them is an extra thing he could not afford to deal with right now—though, he _would_ if he had to, in Rush’s place—and he’s grateful he only has to focus on… well, the _entirety_ of this complicated situation now.

Sykes teleports them easily back into the castle, and the sensation of travelling thousands of miles in an instant is strange, to say the least. However, being back in Athlum gives David a sense of calm, and he immediately directs everyone to the privacy of his own quarters. The throne room is far too public, and he cannot risk the maids overhearing their discussion in the dining hall.

Blocter sets Rush down on one side of David’s bed, whilst Nassau is settled beside him. Pagus gives them both a thorough look-over, confirming that they both just need rest (though that doesn’t sit too well with David; Rush’s state seems _unnatural_ more than anything else, though he supposes he can’t do anything currently _but_ wait). Sykes hovers nervously beside the older blond before giving up and sitting cross-legged on the floor. His upper arm rests upon the bed as his hand reaches for Nassau’s hand, fingers interlacing with it gently. The younger Duke stands at the foot of the bed whilst his Generals are scattered around the room; Irina sits beside Rush, as vigilant as Torgal is at the door.

“Soooo,” Sykes begins, rolling the word around in his mouth dully before casting his gaze to the ground. His mood has progressively gone downhill the moment they arrived in Athlum, and now it seems to be affecting the entire room. The grumpiness is clear in his voice when he speaks shortly next. “Shoot. Ask me anything, I guess.”

David feels bad now for forcing Sykes to do this—he’s beginning to feel as miserable as the other looks. However, Irina doesn’t seem to have any qualms, most likely because she’s dealt with this for most of her life. She turns to face him, arms crossing defiantly.

“So you die.” Her voice is flat.

Sykes’s answer is simple and unabashed. “I do.”

“You… sacrificed yourself to rid the world of Remnants, right?”

“Mmhm.”

David feels a little sick just seeing how lackadaisical Sykes is about such a fact, combined with finally knowing why he dies in the first place. Does Rush not care about his own life? But then, he supposes that’s how Rush naturally is—treasuring his loved ones above himself _always_.

Irina seems just as stricken, but she doesn’t get angry as David predicts. “So… so how are you _alive_?”

It’s a good question. Even Sykes seems nervous about answering it.

He fidgets for a moment, becoming a little _more_ miserable in the process before answering.

“I dunno.”

David resists the urge to sigh.

“You do so!” Irina voices his thoughts for him, her hands transferring now to her hips. “Tell me the truth!”

“I really don’t, okay?” The frustration is becoming clear in Sykes’ voice as he holds up a hand defensively—not the one that holds onto Nassau’s hand, David notes—and he shakes his head. “I… I was in this… _void_ after I disappeared. I floated and floated and… I dunno how long I was there for but… I know that I kept on dreaming of… of…” His eyes flicker to Nassau’s form, to David _himself_ , before looking away once more. David isn’t sure what that look means, but there’d been pain when Sykes recalled that ‘void’ he’d be in. The blond will make sure he won’t have to experience that again.

“A-anyway, that’s not important.” Sykes continues hurriedly. “What I _do_ remember is waking up in the Holy Plain all ‘Remnant-fied’ but… in _this_ time. I don’t think I ever went back to my original time at all.”

David’s lips thin slightly. That’s concerning. What exactly brought Sykes here, if not Sykes himself? It doesn’t add up. As much as David wants to trust him, he has the feeling the other is still withholding information nonetheless. He decides to hazard a query for something else that presses upon his mind. “Do you remember how all those Remnants came to be inside you?”

“Erm…” Sykes looks uncertain, and David feels his brief hope for answers plummet steadily. “I’m not too sure.”

Another query rises in his throat, and he feels hesitant to ask it at all. It’s one that’s been burning in the back of his mind, and he swallows harshly.

“Are you…” He begins softly, but clears his throat. “Are you awakened?”

With all those Remnants inside him, he assumed that Sykes was already awakened. The powers displayed were _phenomenal_ , and David remembers how awestruck he’d been when Sykes had obliterated a powerful monster like Heaven’s Lord in an instant with hardly any effort at all. It would have also explained the time-travelling business but hadn’t the World told Rush to awaken? David had barely been cognizant of his surroundings then, wracked with pain, but he’s sure he heard the hissed words correctly. If the World wants Rush to awaken when Sykes himself is awakened, then wouldn’t that be pointless? Unless…

Sykes smiles humourlessly, and David’s doubt disappears.

“No.”

Silence.

That’s why the World has become so active in their present. That’s why the World is after Rush. The entity has come to awaken the younger Rush—perhaps because he isn’t as powerful as Sykes is now—and _that_ is definitely a cause for alarm.

Beside him, Irina’s eyes widen. She takes a small step back, lips parting in shock. “And that’s why…?” She doesn’t finish; perhaps she’s not able to.

“So you’re the one.” Torgal’s voice is flat as he finally speaks and David turns to see those eyes fixated intently upon Sykes. The next words are ones he is not familiar with, but he can make out the syllables.

“ _Caite Iarsma._ ”

The words send chills down David’s spine, but the realization burns in his mind. He turns back to Sykes, eyes narrowing in thought.

“You’re the sleeping Remnant from sovani legend.” He states softly, and his gaze flickers briefly to Rush, still unconscious upon the bed. His feels a painful throb in the centre of his chest, and he wonders when he’ll finally wake. This is the second time recently that Rush had to be brought back unconscious to Athlum, and he’s never felt so wound up in his entire life.

“Legend?” When he looks back at Sykes, the face that meets him is wholly blank and Pagus briefly reiterates for him what Torgal has said before all this.

“So that’s where it comes from?” Sykes leans forward in interest after the explanation. “I never really knew why I kept being told to awaken, but I figured it probably wasn’t a good thing. I guess I was right, huh?”

“That still doesn’t explain why the Conqueror wants you to awaken.” Emmy suddenly pitches in, taking a few steps forward. Her arms cross, looking empathetically at David. “If he’s an enemy of the World as well, then why try to aid its goal?”

“I can guess one reason why.” Sykes starts dryly. “The Remnants in my head were all excited about being released but now are _really_ angry at me for, uh, basically removing them from this plane. Their words gave me a few hints when they were yelling at me.” His occupied hand tightens around Nassau’s. “I reckon the Conqueror wants to start an all-out war against the World. He wanted me to awaken, to release both my Remnant side _and_ the World so that we’d have to battle again, only this time with the Conqueror and the other Remnants beside me. He probably hoped that we’d win and, well, _conquer_ the World. Blah blah blah.” He gives a shrug. “Not the best idea, in my opinion.”

“Probably not.” David adds, and his mind is cast into a whirlwind of machinations once more. To let the Conqueror succeed in his goals means the near-destruction of mankind and their way of living. War would come upon them again, when a long sought-for peace is just around the corner. To let the World win means… the destruction of all Remnants, most likely. David has no idea the future of humanity if the World has its way, but he doubts it’ll be much better. It had been sealed for a reason, after all.

Releasing a steady breath, he looks around the room, gaze connecting squarely with each and every one of them.

“Then it’s settled.” He says clearly. “Do everything in your power to protect Rush from the World and the Conqueror. We mustn’t allow them an opportunity to awaken Rush.”

The Generals salute as one, and both Irina and Sykes nod.

David won't let Rush sacrifice himself either. He won't let there even be any opportunity for him to. He doubts it'll be easy. He knows Rush— at least, _that_ side of him. Rush won't sit down and let his loved ones be harmed. It's almost like blasphemy to him.

As the thought crosses his mind, he thinks he finally begins to understand Nassau's actions. If he knew what was coming, then he'd be desperate to keep Rush safe, and enthralling him would ensure he stays put. Rush would probably throw himself into the danger otherwise.

But then—what if the danger was David _himself_?

“Irina.” David looks at her next; he has the feeling she’s a bit more aware of the situation in the future—and the future is _definitely_ one of the things he’s concerned about. He needs to know, so he can prevent whatever may happen.

She looks at him, and the apprehension in her gaze suggests she already discerns what’s coming.

“What do you remember?” He asks gently. He’s not too sure how thorough her memories are, but he recalls how _upset_ she’d been a few hours earlier at Rush. It must have been something truly vivid for her to feel such emotion.

Irina’s hands rise to her chest, a mannerism that expresses her nervousness, he’s noticed. However, her fidgeting seems to be concentrated around her ring finger, and she can’t meet his nor Sykes’s gaze.

For a moment, David doesn’t get it. Then he does.

Ah.

“You married?” He puts out the query gently, though inwardly he’s burning with curiosity as to _who_ she was betrothed to.

“ _What?!_ ” Sykes’s mouth drops at the revelation. He looks like he’s about to jump up in rising protectiveness and indignation. “What-but— _who?!_ ”

“Umm…” Irina’s fidgeting gets more anxious. Her gaze is still restless, but she seems to finally gather enough courage to look at Sykes. “I married… w-well, I should clarify first that it was completely consensual and that I was okay with it!” She ends with that same stubbornness in her voice—probably because she already knows how Sykes will react. David starts to get a bad feeling when Irina glances at Nassau.

“W-we planned it out and-and it was _my_ idea, okay, Rush?” She clenches her fists, staring at her brother defiantly now.

Sykes begins to get exasperated. “Can you just tell me _who_ first before—?”

“She married me.”

The voice is soft, tired. David feels his heart freeze and Sykes suddenly jerks back from the bed, as if the physical connection he had burned him.

Nassau sits up wearily, drowsily scanning his current companions before his eyes land on Sykes. There’s a multitude of emotions flickering across his features before one finally settles—regret. He seems to reach out for a moment, but then halts his action halfway upon perceiving the slight, uncomfortable shift now from Sykes. David practically _feels_ the sorrow radiating off his older counterpart as if it were his own at such a reaction, but Nassau seems to just accept it for now and carry on.

“I apologize, Rush.” He says slowly, “I… hope you won’t think badly of me but there was a need to after certain events.”

David feels his chest tighten once again. Even as Nassau talks, he only pays half-attention. He’d admittedly been shocked when Nassau suddenly awakened, and has been on edge ever since—and _rightfully_ so because Nassau had been _possessed_ by the _World_. When exactly would that happen again? What _determined_ it, if anything? David doesn’t wish to take risks, but even as he looks to Irina, to Nassau _himself_ and sees the lack of smouldering gold, he has this strange, certain feeling that the World will not become active anytime soon.

Lips pursing in worry, he decides to keep his guard up. There’s no harm in doing so, after all.

He drags his mind back to the conversation at hand, watching as Nassau averts his gaze shamefully. David recalls the previous words said, and one prevalent query rises to the forefront of his mind. What drove them to make that decision in the first place? It seemed… _extreme_. And by the way Nassau’s been acting—as well as the general attitude by both him and Irina towards the marriage—it doesn’t seem like they got married based on _love_.

“Hrm…” Sykes makes a disgruntled sound, crossing his arms. He looks to be deflating steadily, and his voice is a little flat when he finally manages to answer. “You guys have a good reason why, right?”

David opens his mouth. Closes it. He doesn’t really know _what_ to say at all, only that he wishes to appease Sykes somehow. It’s… discomforting to see the normally cheerful male so upset. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rush’s fingers twitch.

“Of course, Rush.” Nassau seems as nervous as Irina is, but his gaze is imploring as he looks to Sykes. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

David starts to move towards Rush now, glancing to the side at Emmy and she nods empathetically to him. Irina notices, and steps back to allow him to sit upon the bed near the sleeping male’s head. Quietly and gently, he takes Rush’s hand, squeezing it affectionately. He doesn’t know whether Rush is awake or not, but David wants to acknowledge him _somehow_ without disrupting any explanations that may come up.

He looks up just in time to see Sykes’s gaze flicker away from him, shifting to meet Nassau’s again, David assumes. The dark-haired male’s expression softens, the dismayed air slowly fading as he slowly nods to the reassurance.

“Yeah.” Sykes says quietly, but he straightens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I believe you.”

David’s mouth parts in shock. The ease of which Sykes trusts Nassau—trusts _him—_ makes him feel bad he ever thought to use Rush when he first met him. He needs to apologize, to _thank_ Rush when he has the opportunity. To think that he may never have had the chance before Rush dies in the _future_ is a disheartening thought, and he makes a mental note to confront his older counterpart alone about it.

Sykes’s gaze flicker between both Nassau and David and a grin threatens to break out on his face now. “Wow. Your faces look _really_ similar!” He laughs, and the light-hearted comment eases the tension, if only a little. David’s glad to see that familiar beam upon his face all the same, even if it does fade slightly when Irina finally speaks.

“Rush. We… David and I married because he was worried about Athlum.” She says quietly, and her fingers twist a ring that doesn’t exist. “If anything were to happen to him, then Athlum would be left leaderless, and he didn’t have the time to raise an heir.”

Nassau lets out a soft sigh. “It was… for formality’s sake only. There was no one else I would trust to rule Athlum besides her.” His gaze flicks to the side, towards the door, towards the _rest_ of the Generals but David keeps his eyes on him. “I apologize.” Nassau says.

“There is no need, my Lord.” Torgal answers calmly, taking it in stride and answering for the others. “It is hard to hand over such a heavy responsibility to people who have passed away, after all.”

The flinch that takes Nassau’s form is unexpected. Sykes immediately steps forward, casting a glower Torgal’s way as a hand rests upon Nassau’s shoulder, but he waves him off immediately.

“You guessed.” Nassau’s voice is calm. David’s heart sinks. Of course, he should have expected the day where he would outlive perhaps _all_ of his Generals, and he’d heard it himself from Torgal when he’d discussed Nassau with all of them, but… to hear it said so _bluntly_ and by the sovani himself—David purses his lips in discomfort.

“I would be a poor General if I was not able to read my Lord’s mind and emotions.” Torgal finally states plainly in reply. He doesn’t seem to be apologetic at all for stating something so unexpectedly, and David finds that to be a bad habit the sovani keeps—but a good one, occasionally.

Suddenly, he feels a squeeze at the hand holding Rush’s. He manages to refrain from starting and glances down eagerly, lips parting to call to the other. However, he halts in surprise when Rush suddenly turns over towards him, burying his face into David’s hip and letting out the softest sigh. For a moment, David freezes—he’s unsure whether Rush is finally awake or not, but judging by the steady breathing, he may not be. David’s lips curve up at the display nonetheless, and he rests a hand upon Rush’s shoulder, rubbing it gently. The previous knot in his chest loosens slightly—Rush _seems_ to be alright, at the very least.

“How is he?” Nassau’s voice interrupts his musings and David glances up briefly. The other is far too close for his liking and beginning to reach _out,_ and the hand that lingers on Rush’s shoulder drops to his upper back in response. The action itself is intended to be protective, and David stares at Nassau squarely until he gets it and retreats. David still doesn’t trust him—not after the incident with the World.

“Ah… sorry.” The other blond says, and his gaze is the first to break away, eyeing Rush instead. “I understand.”

A pause. Then, _unexpectedly_ —

"Perhaps you should end me here."

The silence that follows is hung in shock, the idea itself incredulous to comprehend. Honestly, even as David’s getting over the initial surprise, he begins _considering_ it before abandoning the idea completely. He may not have much respect for his counterpart, but he won’t _murder_ him, however practical it _may_ be.

"No. No _way_!" Sykes's voice rises when he finally manages to speak. He starts forward when Nassau looks his way calmly, and his fists are clenched tightly in distress. "Don’t even _think_ that!"

“It’s practical.” Nassau says calmly.

Well.

“It’s not that I have a death wish, but Rush’s safety is the top priority here. It’s not just my life at stake, but the entirety of mankind.” He continues, looking squarely at Sykes. “The World chose me as a host. I’m one of the few that is susceptible to being taken over by its influence.”

“No.” Sykes crosses his arms stubbornly, a deep frown upon his face. He doesn’t seem to even _listen_ , let alone _want_ to. “Nope.”

David feels his lips quirk up very slightly before diminishing. Despite the current situation, just watching Sykes’s mannerisms is… amusing and _cute_ to say the least. Rush is an incredibly endearing person, after all.

His gaze slips to Rush, almost the same time as Nassau's, and David feels his chest tighten even more if possible. Rush doesn't seem to be waking up anytime soon, and his face is as lax and peaceful as ever with soft breaths lifting his chest rhythmically.

"He'd agree with me." Sykes says loudly as if reading their minds, and David turns to him. The scowl upon the dark-haired male becomes more pronounced. "He's _me_ after all." When neither blond answers, he looks as if he's about to stamp his foot with the amount of indignation he's giving off. "I'll fight you if I have to!"

"I'm not gonna sit by and let that happen either! I'm with you, Rush!" Blocter's just as loud in his protest, and David glances around to see that the rest of his Generals are in agreement. His gaze connects with Irina’s next and she gives a helpless shrug. He’s not entirely sure what she’s thinking, nor if her memories supplement whether she supports Nassau’s suggestion or not, but he figures they can’t really do anything anyway with the majority protesting such a decision.

Nassau seems exasperated. “Then lock me up. I refuse to be a danger.”

“But… the World doesn’t seem to be active right now.” Irina says softly. She holds up her hands, the glow of her Blessing casting gentle hues upon the room. “I sensed it when I was battling the Fallen.”

“Yeah, actually.” Sykes perks up at the reminder. “You did really awesome, sis! Didn’t know you could pull those sorta moves!” The previous bad mood immediately evaporates from his expression as he grins at Irina proudly.

David feels his face flush faintly at the admiration found in those features, even if it isn’t directed at him. It’s nice to see, he won’t deny it. Irina herself seems shocked to hear such praise and she smiles brightly at him, eyes sparkling.

“Thanks, Rush!” With the happy expression still lingering, she continues. “Like I said, the World isn’t active right now. Whatever happened between… between you three put it out of commission for the time being.” She sobers quickly, looking at Rush then at David. “What… _did_ happen?”

Eyes turn on David, but he hesitates. He doesn’t know how to put it into words—he doesn’t really want to _recall_ such an experience and he looks down at Rush, contemplating whether he should just explain everything or just keep concise—

His gaze lands on Rush and his heart stops.

Rush’s eyes are open, something unseen by the others, curled up to David as he is now. His gaze is fixated on the only part of David he can see with fingers lightly coiled around the material of his clothes.

And Rush’s hands are shaking.

David keeps his expression composed, not wishing to leave any hint of what he’s seen. He doesn’t know how long Rush has been awake, but he doesn’t seem mentally able to deal with any questions nor deal with reliving such an experience. His gaze returns to Irina, and he sees the saddened expression of Nassau as he does so. David’s not sure whether his older counterpart remembers what happened while he’d been possessed, but he doesn’t want to find out right now. He only wants Rush to be alright.

“Later.” David says suddenly, firmly. He feels Rush shift the slightest bit, and rubs his back soothingly. “We all need rest. I will call a meeting tomorrow or later tonight. Rush and… myself,” He looks to Sykes and Nassau. “You can both use Rush’s room. I’ll stay here with him. Irina—“

“Irina can stay with me tonight.” Emmy says softly. She gives an encouraging smile to the younger Sykes. “Just to make sure you’re alright.”

“Thank you.” Irina says, and she seems relieved to hear it.

They file out quickly, perhaps in some way understanding the situation. David’s a little hesitant to allow Nassau alone with Sykes, but he knows the latter is more than capable of handling himself. He trusts Irina’s words, that the World isn’t as active as it was before. He doesn’t think he can do anything _but_ trust.

The door closes, and the silence descends quickly.

David takes a moment for Rush to adjust—if he needs to—and looks at him once more. The hand upon Rush’s back continues its circular, soothing motion as he opens his mouth. “Rush—“

“Are you alright, Dave?”

He barely has time to even _speak_ before Rush is interrupting, eyes flickering up to meet David’s own briefly before they avert quickly once more. His voice is breathy, shaken. So very unlike the bright tone David is used to.

“Of course.” David answers softly; Rush never does stop caring about others. “Are you, Rush?”

Unexpectedly, Rush’s teeth bares and he sits up quickly, ready to say something but he halts, a hand meeting his temple quickly as a groan escapes him. Eyes squeeze shut, and David reaches out, a frown marring his own features.

“Careful, Rush.” David says quietly. He imagines Rush had gotten up far too quickly after lying down for so long. It’s common, David knows, to experience dizziness and a sudden pain. He wonders whether to get Rush to lie down once more but he’s immediately side-tracked as the other opens his eyes and stares hard at him.

“’Of course’? How can you say that?! After—after what _happened_ —!” His fists clench, and David decides to patiently listen, if only to get where he’s coming from. “And I—I did _nothing_. I couldn’t even awaken, I couldn’t _save_ you and it was only by dumb chance that we were _ever_ able to get out of that situation! What if I can’t _do_ anything next time?! What if the World kills you and—!” He swallows harshly, ducking his head as he presses his palms to his eyes.

So that’s what Rush is worried about. David should have realised.

He leans forward, coiling his arms around Rush carefully and gently. The male stiffens at first, surprised at the contact and it seems he’s about to withdraw but David tightens his grip. Eventually, Rush relaxes against him, face buried in his chest. There are tremors minutely wracking his body, and David’s protectiveness of him grows.

“It’s not your fault, Rush.” He tells him gently, albeit firmly. “The World is far more powerful than either of us could have guessed. We just have to be better prepared next time.”

Rush gives a dry laugh. “You got tortured.” He responds, voice muffled. When David doesn’t answer, he lifts his head, resting his chin on David’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around the blond in turn. “You got tortured.” He repeats, a little more quietly, and David shudders.

“I won’t let the World hurt you again.” Rush continues, and his voice is stronger. “I won’t let _anyone_ hurt you, Dave. I’ll protect everyone.” His grip on him tightens.

David closes his eyes. “As long as you keep yourself safe in the process.” He responds softly.  He remembers Rush’s future sacrifice, and can only feel dread.

“I will, Dave.” Rush says quietly.

Rush doesn’t promise him anything, but David allows himself to believe anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have fun with the information overload bye omf lkjasf


	15. ceathair déag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO BEFORE anyone gets confused: **THIS CHAPTER and the next chapter will be in Sykes' POV**. For reasons. Yaaaas.  
>  aNYHOW i haven't proofread this yet and i know i should before posting it but i wanted to get this out as quickly as possible cuz i don't wanna make y'all wait any longer than necessary lksajf i mean i'll still edit it as i go along but i hope you all enjoy!!

( _tear **tear** tear_— )

He’s in the void again.

He’s floating, experiencing _daggers_ to his very being and he cannot rest.

( _little warden are you **scared**?_ )

There is no reprieve, there is no solace.

( _noescapen ~~oescapeNOE~~ SCAPEFROM{US} **LITTLEWARDEN**_ — )

He thinks he gets used to it.

“Rush?”

There is a hand upon his shoulder that he hadn’t felt before. He still sees the never-ending void, but tries to focus his attention on the voice. It’s different, far unlike the deep tone of the Conqueror. It’s familiar.

( _no ~~escape~~_ ~~)~~

He _remembers_ suddenly, and his vision sharpens. He grins then, even as he sees Dave regarding him with a worried gaze.

“Mm?” He makes a noise, unable to do much else with ( _many of us that you have FAILED AND DISAPPOINTED_ ), but he sees the void in Dave’s eyes and averts his vision. He hears a short intake of breath, and the hand upon his shoulder moves, interlacing fingers with his own and squeezing gently. They’re coarse, familiar.

( _such a lovely soul so delicious to CONSU ~~ME~~_ ~~)       -~~

 _Shut up_. _Don’t touch him._

It’s the only time he ever answers them back.

“I’ve been calling your name for a while.” Dave says quietly. There is neither contempt nor blame in his voice, but Rush feels his chest tighten nonetheless.

“Sorry.” He says sheepishly, a hand rising to the nape of his neck. “I, uh, was thinking.”

( **_lying_** _li ~~ttlew~~ arden aren’t you ?_ )

They’ve both already moved to his old room, settled sitting upon the bed next to each other, close enough to touch. As soon as Rush entered, he couldn’t even take in the familiarity and the feeling of _home_ before the voices started to assault him once again. He shouldn’t be taken by surprise anymore, though. He’s never been given reprieve for longer than a few hours and he’s tired of it.

Or… he’s just… tired.

( _~~b r o k e n lit~~ tle **thing**_ — )

He tries to squash that line of thinking. He can deal with this.

He looks up again finally to see Dave staring at him, and there’s this painful look in his gaze that Rush doesn’t want to see in those eyes at all.

“You’re… less focused than before.” He states quietly. Rush doesn’t answer yet, unsure of what he’s getting at. Dave continues after a moment. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He answers, a little too quickly. He honestly doesn’t know _why_ the Remnants are so active. It’s almost like before, when he first arrived here. He sorta hates it, not knowing much about the situation, nor what’s going on with him or even _Dave_ because at least then he’d be able to properly act, be sure of what he’s doing. Still, it doesn’t look like _anyone_ really knows what’s going on.

He grins again, not having realised it’d faded, if only to reassure the other. Dave doesn’t really look convinced, but he doesn’t pursue the subject, thankfully. Instead, his gaze flicks to their joined hands. When he speaks, he speaks slowly. “Are… the seals holding?”

( _~~the IMPUDENCE ofthisyoungmitra **slay** him           **KILL**~~_ — )

Rush nods reassuringly, then realizes Dave probably can’t see it. “Yeah.” He says instead, a smile clear in his voice. Well, the seals are doing what they’re _meant_ to be doing, and that’s enough for him.

( _itsalreadyBREAKING ~~isntit~~_ )

“Do you need anything else?” Dave meets his gaze once more, and his stare is narrowed and searching. Rush can’t… ( _YOU CAN’T **hold** something you could never KEE ~~P you are getting WEAKER~~_ ) –can’t _hold_ it, and feels the void flicker in his mind’s eye as he looks away ( _~~a~~ gainand **again**_ ~~SO **WEAK**~~ ).

“Nah.” He says, and it’s all he _can_ say, what with ( _~~are we hurting you distracting you **WE**~~_ ** ~~ARE~~ _YOU WARDEN_** ) _ringing_ in his mind and ( _cantconcentratecantdoanything **cantfulfillyourDUTY**_ ) it’s getting… getting _distracting_.

~~It hurts.~~

He’s been doing alright so far. It’s not so bad as before, especially having been fresh from that weird void. He thinks it’s been ( fadinglikeyoufadedlikeWEfaded ). Or maybe, he just _convinces_ himself it is.

He feels dread coil in his stomach.

( _come back little ~~warden w~~ ont you come **back** to us ? _ )

( _u s ?_ )

( _we **miss** you_ )

A phantom _pain_ ripples up his spine, and he suppresses the flinch that comes with it.

“Are _you_ alright, Dave?” Rush asks, and tries to focus his gaze on Dave, tries to ignore how ( _its **coming** for you little ~~warden~~_ ) … gets _closer_. He _senses_ it, and doesn’t want to… acknowledge it. He wants— _needs_ to focus on Dave, because Dave is Dave and ( _~~sillymitranconcepts~~_ ) needs to be looked after _as well_ because how hard was ( _re ~~st your mi~~ nd you **ng ward** en_ ) … was it all, dealing with the aftermath of—

( **_ANGER_** _ANGER **ANGER**_ )

The force _slices_ through his mind and he _barely_ manages to maintain a steady expression, just barely manages to actually _hear_ Dave’s answer and he tries to ( _wha ~~ts wron~~ g you **despi ~~cab~~ leDISGRACE**_ ) hold the other’s gaze without giving anything away. He doesn’t want Dave to worry about this ( _noone ** ~~cares~~**_ ) at _all_.

“I’m fine.” Dave replies quietly. There’s an absent-minded motion of his thumb upon the exterior of Rush’s palm, his own gaze now following the ( _you were meant ~~to act FOR us not AGAINS~~ T US. such a **F A I L U R E**_ ). “I just… I should not have delved into Magick in the first place. The World would have stayed inactive otherwise. Everything would have been…” His breath catches when he meets Rush’s gaze once more. “… No. I’m sorry.” Dave gives a humourless laugh. “I should’ve done a lot of things.”

( … )

“Dave…” Rush whispers, slightly speechless. He can’t imagine the guilt the other is carrying. He wants to alleviate it immediately.

( _does he deserve it?_ )

Rush turns over his palm, takes Dave’s hand tightly in his own.

 **_I_ ** _don’t deserve **him**._

“You’re not… you wouldn’t have known.” He starts slowly, even as he’s trying to figure out what may make Dave feel ( _d ~~oyou~~ thinkyoure **selfless**_ ? )… better. “Besides, who’s to say that the World woke up because of what you did? From what… from what I saw, you weren’t working _major_ Magick stuff, right?”

Dave smiles hollowly ( **_marred_** _beauty ~~did you wish to **restore** it m h a c ?~~_ ), and isn’t able to meet his eyes again. “You’d be surprised.”

“Still!” Rush insists stubbornly; he feels the void receding the more he becomes incensed. “Marion’s Blessing is real powerful, isn’t it? And Irina had been using it a lot, so it doesn’t make sense that the World woke up when you started doing all those things!” He’s not even able to name it, considering he has no idea what Dave’s practised in the first place. He’d only seen spontaneous moments of what happened, but not everything.

“I made a Contract, Rush.” Dave says calmly now, as if he’s trying to placate _him_ instead of the other way around now. “I purposely _contacted_ the World for power.”

The fact makes his blood turn cold. Even as he hears it, he knows his mind is futilely trying to think up reasons to refute that ~~idea ( _dont deny th_~~ _e truth MHAC as you **a l w a y s** have_ ). ~~~~

“Dave.” Rush says loudly, an effort to speak over the increasing noise in his head, but _also_ to interrupt whatever thought processes may be going on in the other’s own mind. “The World was probably awake even before that!”

( _you are ~~WORTHLESS mhac you are unabl~~ e to help ANYONE give up ~~GIVE UP~~_ — )

He swallows and voices his next words even as he starts to feel ( **_weak_** _thing, you are meant to be indestructi ~~ble **INVUL**~~ **NERABLE** —_). “The World wanted to get rid of all the Remnants on it, right? Since I… since I de ~~s ( _DEST_~~ _ROYED US DESTRO_ —)…” His visions filters viridian and he jerks away immediately, breathing hard and eyes wide. Dave’s looking at him, crestfallen, and Rush can’t meet his gaze. He bows his head, presses a palm to his forehead. Dave’s other hand is felt upon his shoulder, and Rush thinks Dave is shaking him for a moment. Then he realises _he’s_ the one shaking.

( _~~incompetent~~_ )

“Sorry.” He tries to say, and his voice is strangely breathy. He tries again. “I’m sorry. I—don’t worry about it, Dave.”

 _I’m so dumb_.

“Rush.” Dave shifts closer to him, and he thinks he feels an arm loop around his waist. Dave’s warm, and he tries to cling to that even as the void fluctuates around him once again ( _ ~~wemissyou~~_ ). “What didn’t I see? How… how bad was it?” There is apprehension clear in his voice, the words themselves tight with worry and Dave shouldn’t _have_ to be worried because he doesn’t _need_ to be, not for _Rush—_

( **_BURDEN_** )

No. No. Dave doesn’t need to do anything more for him. He’s already done so damn _much_ for Rush and he doesn’t _need_ this on his shoulders, he doesn’t need this—

“Nothing, Dave.” Rush looks up then. He stares Dave square in the face. He smiles. “It wasn’t that bad. I mean, it was probably worse with you—I… practically forced everything on you. I made you pick up after my mess ‘cause I know… I know Royotia and Balterossa were probably really mad at me a-and it couldn’t have been easy—“

Dave has this expression on his face that Rush can’t identify. He doesn’t think he wants to.

( **_~~hehatesyou~~_** )

“Rush, you—!” Dave’s teeth grit, and he looks strangely _helpless_ for a second, incredibly _frustrated_ and Rush’s heart wilts for a second. Dave shakes his head, eyes fixated on Rush’s own as he lifts both his hands and grips Rush’s shoulders. “Don’t _say_ that. I was _honoured_ to do the things I did. I told you—things got better. Not everyone realised it at first, but _they got better_. I—“ His head hangs. His voice is a broken thing when Rush next hears it.

“I just wished… you were there to _see_ it.”

Dave falls silent then, and Rush doesn’t know what to say.

He wants to point out that he was _sorta_ there, that he could listen to Dave in snippets as he worked or even _dreamed_ but… he supposes that isn’t entirely the same thing.

He straightens suddenly, a small smile quirking his lips as he shuffles closer to Dave on the bed. Almost shyly, he slips an arm around Dave and that action alone manages to get a smile reflected on the blond’s own features. Dave returns the gesture, hugging him with one arm back whilst his other reaches out, fingers interlacing with Rush’s own free hand.

It’s not like they’re officially together. Heck, it’s not like they’ve even _confessed_ to anything but… they don’t really _need_ to. It’s an unspoken thing between them, something established when Rush was in the void and Dave was taking care of the world… it’s… no, _he’s_ one of the few things that actually quieten the Remnants in him.

“I wanna see it, then.” Rush says quietly. He feels Dave stiffen beside him, though from what emotion he isn’t sure. “After all this… after taking care of the World, we’ll go back and—well, I dunno what’ll happen to us but we’ll both be alive and we’ll both go back. Together.”

“I…” He hears Dave swallow hard and Rush ignores the foreboding crawling up his spine. He’ll make sure they’re both there to see the new future, whatever it may be.

Rush pulls back then and grins at him. “We can do this.”

“… Of course.” Dave says, and there’s something beautiful and _sorrowful_ in his returned smile at the same time. “We can do this.”

“I’ll keep you safe.” Rush promises. He means it, and feels the blond tighten his grip on him.

( _~~b r o k e n lit tl e t hi  n  g~~_ )

Dave doesn’t answer.

* * *

 

He doesn’t think either of them sleeps that night.

Even if the voices subside, they aren’t gone _completely_. There are still whispers, ever _disheartening_ but he has Dave right here and he thinks _he’s_ all he needs. But then the void flickers in his mind’s eye, and he wonders if he’s fooled himself into thinking this is reality.

Dave doesn’t snore, unsurprisingly. He’s graceful in battle, graceful in person, and even graceful in bed… _sleeping_. Rush isn’t sure about… the _other_ meaning and… though he _is_ kinda curious he has to admit he’s content with just _being_ with him at all.

He slowly sits up, making sure not to jostle the sleeping (he _thinks_ ) blond beside him and maintaining the lax grip he has on Dave’s hand. After so long isolated from everyone he’s loved, he’s happy to even be _alive_ and _with_ them, even if he’s in the wrong time period. Which reminds him—he _still_ needs to drill Dave on how he even _got_ here because while Rush is still kinda clueless about this whole situation, he knows that Dave _definitely_ isn’t supposed to be here _unless_ the World… unless the World did something.

( _enemy_ ), the Remnants whisper to him, _( e nE ~~N My~~_ ~~)~~

Rush bows his head. “Not Dave.” He tells them quietly, and they murmur among themselves once more.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, jus ~~t ( _speak for us t_~~ _hink for us listen for_ US ) … with a _cacophony_ within his mind and he’s… not sure what his _own_ thou( _ghts are DORM ~~ANT awaken littlewardenPR~~ ECIOUS w a r d e n ~~b~~_ ~~)u~~ t he’s aware of _Dave_ at least. At one point, the blond turns over on his side a ~~w( _ay from you DISGUSTED even in SLUMBE_~~ _R_ ) but then Rush feels him abruptly shift. A warmth settles at his hip and Rush gently threads his fingers among golden locks, _c ~~onte(ntme~~_ ~~)~~ nt settling within his core.

He thinks he feels a little more grounded now.

“You are useless now.”

Rush jerks violently at the familiar voice, eyes shooting up to meet the apathetic gaze of the Conqueror. At first, he tenses, power _flaring_ at the ready to be unleashed and he reaches over to wake Dave up but… but then he _really_ looks and he’s left with panicked, hard breathing, oxygen erratically inhaled and exhaled from his lungs.

“You’re not real.” He says quietly, and returns to stroking Dave’s hair. He dares not even look at the blond, in fear of having woken him up.

“To you I am.” The Conqueror is not one to back down, and apparently his imagination agrees. If the guy even _is_ just his imagination. Either way, Rush doesn’t want to hear it.

“Go away.” He whispers, mostly because he doesn’t want to startle Dave. As if on cue, the blond shifts under his palm and Rush’s movements still.

He’s distracted from checking on him when the Conqueror speaks again.

“Your mistake is irreversible. The seals won’t hold.” His voice is flat, realistic. Rush doesn’t want to believe it.

“Yeah, well, your face is irreversible.” Maybe his response is just a _little_ immature but Rush doesn’t care. He just wants the Conqueror to _go_.

But it’s as if the other is a broken record, and despite Rush trying to ignore the figment, the promise held in those words give him chills.

“The seals won’t hold.”

( _~~c ait e ia rs m  a~~_ )

Rush’s teeth bare. “You don’t know anything.” He mutters. Then he realises he’s technically talking to himself. This is _so_ not ace.

( _Sy            k      e  s…_ )

“The Magick will fade.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, bows his head. He lets a final protest slip past his lips.

“You’re full of it.”

( _givingup ~~?~~_ )

“Rush?”

_Huh?_

A noise escapes him before he can even think and he jerks around to see Dave already sitting up, frowning at him in concern. Rush doesn’t know how long the other has been there because he hadn’t even heard or felt him _move_ but he guesses it’s been a while, judging by how tightly Dave is holding onto his arm. It hurts a little, but the pain is only registering now and _slowly_ and…

“Rush, look at me.”

Palms settle themselves firmly on his cheeks and Rush feels a gentle tug, guiding him back to Dave's gaze. Still confused, he blinks uncertainly into the other’s eyes, trying to orientate himself. He tries to look over to where the Conqueror is to make sure he’s gone, but Dave holds him stubbornly.

"Are you with me?" Dave asks him softly, painfully. His eyes are intense, and it takes more than a moment for Rush to focus.

"Yeah." Rush begins, then clears his throat quickly, noting his breathy voice. "Yeah. Sorry."

Dave's grip becomes lax on his face and he automatically looks over to where the Conqueror had been standing. Of course, the weirdo's already gone.

"What are you looking at?" Dave asks then, and his tone is firmer, as if trying to get a child to pay attention. In a way, Rush feels like that's the case at the moment.

"Uh..." To tell the truth or not? He has the feeling Dave will catch on anyways but decides to chance it anyways. "Nothing." He says, most likely in the least convincing way possible.

For a moment, Dave just looks at him. Rush begins to feel nervous, even dumb for trying to pull that on Dave. Before he can apologize, Dave's already jumping straight to the point.

"You told me those seals were to prevent them from hurting you."

Rush can’t meet that distressed gaze. He just stares at his lap, his hands fidgeting together. The Remnants murmur distantly in his mind. “They aren’t _hurting_ me…” He says lamely.

“You don’t sound so convinced.” Dave replies flatly.

Well, they _sorta_ do. Sometimes. But that was before Rush ever came here, and it’s not like they’re hurting him _now_ , not like… _before_ and… Dave’s…a ( _TOY to be **USED** AN_ ) d he’s trying so hard to _help_ him…

“I…” Rush inhales softly. “I dunno anymore.”

( _y o    u  . . ._ )

His head hangs. His hands are shaking as they lift and he covers his face with them, trying to calm himself.

“Jeez.” He whispers, tremors present in his tone. “Everything’s a… _I’m_ a mess. My thoughts aren’t my own and…”

“Rush—“ Dave sounds frustrated and, when Rush looks, seems as if he’s about to act on it but stops himself short. His mind changes. Coarse hands gently grasp Rush’s own and pull them away, fingers interlacing reassuringly. Dave looks at him, eyes intense and Rush can’t look away.

“Focus on _me_ , Rush. No matter _what_ the Remnants tell you, what they make you see or feel, I’ll always be _here_. I won’t leave you. _I_ will be your constant.”

Rush thinks the shaking lessens. He thinks the voices fade a little. He listens to Dave, and _really_ tries to see him, to _feel_ him before him. The void tries to fool him into thinking he’s still there, but… but he’s _back_ now, isn’t he? And here’s Dave… here’s Dave _telling_ him that, that Dave is with him _too_ and Rush isn’t alone. Not with just the Remnants. Not with only himself.

Perhaps it takes too long for him to answer, but Dave’s hesitating before speaking again. Softly, this time.

“Rush, I…” He swallows, and for a moment Rush thinks the blond is nervous. Which seems unlikely, considering this is _Dave_ and he’s only ever been nervous and jittery about Athlum’s independence. Dave shakes his head, perhaps to clear his head of the anxiety, and Rush grips his hands tighter to solidify both himself and the other. “I didn’t… we haven’t talked much on this.” Dave casts his gaze down to their hands. It takes a moment for Rush to get it, even as the blond finishes quietly. “On _us_.”

Dave’s right, though. They haven’t. They probably should, but Rush finds their connection special, as cheesy as it sounds. What they have is something Rush doesn’t have with anyone else; they don’t even _need_ to say anything aloud, but he supposes it’s good to. Maybe they should clear the air, not that there are any uncertainties in the first place. He _hopes_ there weren’t any, at least.

Dave continues. “I’ve grown to like you… to _love_ you for you are, Rush. During our journey to save Irina, to fight the Conqueror… I’ve never quite known anyone like you, and…” A smile tugs at his lips, and his gaze connects with Rush’s once more. “And I’ve enjoyed the time spent with you all those months. I regret my original intentions, as I’ve told you but… I never really realized how deeply I felt for you until…” It’s here his features darken. “Until you… until you had to stop the Conqueror. I knew why you had to. I just… I hated myself for not finding another way. I hated that you _had_ to in the first place. If only I… if only I _did_ something to prevent the Conqueror from—“

“Dave.” Rush interrupts suddenly. He’d been speechless at the confession, but not now. Rush won’t allow Dave to blame himself. Not anymore. “You’re not at fault. We couldn’t know that the Conqueror was gonna do that! I know it was a little impulsive of me—“ Probably an understatement of the century—“But I don’t regret it. I don’t regret keeping Irina and you and everyone else safe.” He holds Dave’s hands tightly in his own, and there’s a distant acknowledgement that the Remnants are quiet, that the tremors have lessened in him. He tries not to think about it.

The blond is still crestfallen. “But, Rush...“

“No, Dave.” He wants the other to understand. “I… I’m sorry for leaving you and the others. I’m sorry you had to… that you had to deal with the aftermath I left but… just know that it wasn’t your fault. It was my own decision. I _chose_ to sacrifice myself. And… sorry, Dave, but I wouldn’t have let you interfere.” He smiles at him, and Dave swallows harshly.

“I chose the world over you.” He tells Rush quietly.

“Yeah.” Rush replies just as softly. “But I chose it over you, too.”

Silence falls for a moment. Rush considers asking Dave about the World, about how he got mixed up with it in the first place. Maybe about how Dave was even able to reach in the void, no matter how flighty the contact may have been. But then, those are questions he could probably leave until tomorrow. They can afford that much, at least, and Rush wants to freely spend as much time with Dave as possible.

And, well, he _does_ mean _freely_ …

“Wait.” Rush perks up suddenly. “Soooo, we get to kiss and stuff now, right? In public? And hold hands?”

The incredulity in Dave’s stare is amusing and Rush can’t help a laugh. “I…” Dave seems uncertain, but he slowly starts to get a grip on things. “Yes. Yes, we do.” A tilt of his head, and his gaze slips to Rush’s lips. “We can always start now, if you’d prefer…”

“Not a subtle person, are you?” Rush asks, grinning.

“I am a Lord.” Dave states simply even as a smirk tugs at his lips. “I’m used to being spoiled.”

“Buuuut what if I don’t care that you’re a Lord? Whatcha gonna do ‘bout that?”

“Easy. This.” Dave says simply, and Rush barely has time to register the incredible _smugness_ upon his features before Dave leans forward and kisses him.

It’s brief, sweet. Rush finds himself sucking in a huge breath through his nose at the suddenness even as Dave separates from him and he feels embarrassment rise in him. But that was also pretty mint. He’s _really_ liking this side of Dave and, though it kinda sucks that they couldn’t properly indulge in this forever or even make up for the time they _could’ve_ had together, Rush can at least appreciate this.

“I do like _this_.” Rush murmurs, and now he’s _really_ unable to pull his gaze from Dave’s own and it’s _really awesome_ , he can’t deny, just seeing Dave this close, breaths intermingling and the _opportunity_ is right _there_ and…

Okay. What the heck.

He’s a little hesitant himself—he hasn’t really _done_ this in a long time, being this intimate with another person and knowing he’s doing it with _Dave_ makes him all the more nervous but also _exciting_. Dave is Dave and there hasn’t… Rush hasn’t been aware of how much _need_ for the other that has been lingering in him. He doesn’t know how long it’s been there but…

“I, uh, this is probably really late but you’re really, _really_ hot, Dave.” Rush breathes out, his gaze flickering over the blond’s features. He’s had time to appreciate going over Dave’s face in his imagination yet seeing him _this_ close is just… so _surreal_ and now…

Now, Rush is _really_ sure he loves him.

“Thank you.” Dave says quietly, and the amount of gratitude in his tone surprises Rush. One’d think the blond would receive that type of compliment more often than not, but from what Rush has seen, Dave’s been pretty isolated. Especially from people that can befriend him in an honest way. “I don’t… express this often, but you’re amazing, Rush. To me, to everyone you have ever met…” Dave smiles then, and everything about him means the _world_ to Rush.

“Okay, you can stop right there before I grow a bigger ego.” Rush says, grinning. He’s sitting up straighter, altogether pleased at the compliments paid to him and he kisses Dave again for the hell of it, wanting to just dwell in this moment as much as possible. After all, who knows what might come in the future?

“I would not mind stroking it.” Dave says shamelessly, and Rush stares.

“That’s the closest to dirty talk you’re gonna get, isn’t it?” He asks after a tiny moment of gawking at the blond.

Dave tilts his head, and the small smile he gives Rush is calm and ‘innocent’ as his hand drops slowly down Rush’s back, tracing the spine. “Why don’t you find out?”

His breath catches at the suggestion, and he can’t help his gaze dropping down to the loose clothes that drape Dave’s form now. Shed of the official clothing of before, there’s not much left to the imagination, the clothes only comfortable for _sleeping_ and so much easier for _stripping_ and…

Rush’s eyes drift to Dave’s groin, and his thoughts go wild.

“Yeah.” He says, his voice an octave higher at his own imagination about to become reality. Oh man oh man oh _man_.  Dave. Him. Naked. Doing things. Yes _please_. ” Yeah, I can do that.”

Focus on _him_ , Dave had said. Honestly, that’s not so hard to do now what with Dave reaching up, a hand steady on Rush’s chest and Dave’s pushing him back gently, kisses peppered softly on Rush’s lips, his neck, and—top swiftly now discarded—his _chest_ ; Dave’s lips travel further south and…

“Dave…” He whispers. He’s propped up by his elbows now, and Dave’s intent is wholly clear. Rush is _definitely_ not about to stop him, not when…

Dave pauses, and his eyes are like _fire_ when they fixate on Rush’s own once more. “Focus on _me_.”

The blond looks down again, and lips press gently against the cloth of Rush’s undergarments, the length resting there slowly _hardening_ as Rush feels Dave smile softly against it.

“ _Dave_ …” He breathes again, and his head falls back, eyes squeezing shut as the material is gently shifted aside by coarse digits, flesh now meeting _flesh_ and…

 _Focus on_ me.

Rush does.

* * *

 

He wakes briefly to a kiss pressed upon his forehead, fingers carding through his hair. Eyes flutter, and a smile curves his lips as he recognizes a handsome face hovering before his own but the heaviness of sleep draws him back under. An unintelligible murmur escapes him as the presence retreats, but he isn’t alarmed.

_Dave’s gonna be there. Dave’s always gonna be there…_

The Remnants speak for the first time since last night even as slumber claims him once more.

( _are you so s ur  e?_ )

 _Don’t leave me_.

The void laughs at him.

* * *

 

Rush wakes once more.

He feels _amazing_. Last night was even _more_ so and he sighs aloud. Unfortunately, there isn’t a warmth curled up beside him to wake up to, but he remembers vaguely waking up to Dave leaving. Maybe he’ll try to find him later on.

( _ ~~he won’t be around forever~~_ )

Dread tries to cling to him, but he shakes it off immediately. He doesn’t want to think about that. He has to _focus_. Maybe not _entirely_ on Dave—at least, not right _now_ like last night—but… on their _current_ situation.

The World is still out there (though, really, how can it _not_ be) and they all still have to figure out how to defeat it. Dave still runs the risk of being possessed by it, even if Irina says it’s not as active as before, and that’s not something Rush is willing to let happen.

He hazards a guess that Dave is currently with mini-Dave and mini-him (he’s kinda hoping he won’t accidentally _address_ either his younger self or younger Dave by those titles considering, _well_ …), discussing their next move. Despite his own worries, Rush isn’t in a hurry. He figures Dave will tell him what’s up later on. Or maybe he’s just being lazy, because this bed just feels so _good_ right now with the morning sun filtering in so nicely, dwelling peacefully in the memories of how _well_ Dave treated him the night before and whether they could do it again _tonight_ …

( _~~he’ll **leave** you~~_ )

Then again, he supposes that’s not possible. They still have _everything_ to deal with. Maybe after they get back to the future—to the future they’ll build _together_ here—they can finally just _be_ without any trouble. He wouldn’t have ever had to sacrifice himself, Dave wouldn’t have needed to suffer by himself. Irina wouldn’t have been without her brother.

He wonders how it’ll work. He _should_ know, considering he’s a Remnant of… well, _some_ sorta time thingmajig, but he supposes he hasn’t truly _awakened_ so he can’t really…

 ~~( BR O      K E          N~~ )

Huh. Maybe Dave’ll get them back to their time. Or maybe they’ll just merge with their mini versions, as strange as that sounds. Either way Rush’ll be happy.  As long as they got to be together.

A knock comes at the door, and Rush jerks in surprise, pulling the covers up as it opens up a tiny crack. He hasn’t exactly _redressed_ and his clothes are still scatt—oh. Rush notes the neatly folded pile at the edge of the bed. Dave’s clothes aren’t in sight, so that means he probably sorted everything before going.

Apparently, he needn’t have worried. No head pokes through, only a voice.

“Rush? Are you awake?”

A grin immediately dominates his features and he almost jumps up to meet his sister, but then remembers he’s still kinda naked.

“Uh, yeah? What’s up, Irina?” He calls—then adds hastily. “Don’t come in, though!”

He said it in time, because the door moves a few inches before halting. Irina seems to get it immediately.

“You’re not decent?”

“Well—!” Rush stops himself, feeling the blood flow to his face. “I—shut up, Irina!”

There’s laughter outside, but Irina closes the door. “Hurry up, Syk—Rush! I wanna talk with you.”

Rush sits up, confused. “Were you just about to call me _Sykes_?”

“Blame your younger self!”

Okay. That shouldn’t surprise him. What he _is_ surprised about is the lack of stranger names to call him, but he can deal with this.  Better than mini-Rush, he guesses. Or older-Rush, in his case. He’s not _that_ old, after all.

“Alright. Gimme a bit!” Grumbling to himself, he quickly gets dressed, stretching to get rid of the stiffness in his bones ( _and_ the small ache in his rear, but _damn_ was Dave _worth_ it) and makes up the bed. Satisfied with the swift clean, he moves over to the door, straightening his clothes as he opens it.

Irina wrinkles her nose the moment she sees him, and he’s about to pass a query over it but she speaks. “You know, I never did understand why you’re wearing clothes like the Conqueror’s.”

Rush pauses briefly, taken aback at the comment. Glancing down, he realizes that it’s probably a _bit_ concerning to see but…

“I dunno either.” Rush admits, shrugging. “I just woke up like this. Least it ain’t stained with blood like his, right?”

“Right.” Irina agrees, grinning. She seems tired for some reason—though Rush can guess the recent events attribute to that. Sobriety quickly claims her, however. “Rush… I was wondering. Can we go for a walk later? Just you and me?”

Rush doesn’t even have to hesitate. “’Course!” He agrees; he misses her, after all. Maybe not as much as she misses him considering her very alive older brother in this time, but he appreciates the sentiment all the same. “Wait.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Can’t we go for a walk now?”

“Actually, Nass—David wants you with him to discuss what to do next. He said you’d be up by now.” Irina gives him a wry look, and Rush pretends not to notice it.

“Meeting time, huh?” Rush asks wistfully. He kinda hoped he’d be able to spend more time with Dave alone as well, but he supposes that should wait until everything’s been sorted. After all, they’ll have more time with that done.

Checking himself over briefly, he gives Irina a grim smile. “Alrighty. Let’s go.”

* * *

 

“—think that we should wait?”

Dave’s—no, wait, _mini-_ Dave’s—voice echoes through the crack in the door as both Rush and Irina approach. The two Sykes exchange a glance before Irina moves forward, pushing open the door.

Torgal seems as if he’s on the verge of saying something when they enter. Convened in a scattered circle, the group glances over as both Rush and Irina enter and Rush notes the lack of his past self. Maybe he’s still sleeping in. He almost did himself after all. Though… he wonders why Irina didn’t go and get him instead of, well, _older_ him.

Jeez. All this thinking about himself and mini-Rush is starting to get confusing.

( _~~worthier~~_ ), a Remnant whispers in his mind, though he’s not too sure what it’s in relation to. He tries not to worry about it.

“Good morning, Rush.” And there’s _both_ Daves greeting him with a warm smile before they abruptly pause and glance at each other. It’s a little hilarious to see, and Rush grins as a result.

“How’s everyone going?” Rush asks easily, sliding in next to his Dave. He reaches for the other’s hand and, feeling the warmth envelope his own fingers, tightens eagerly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dave’s smile linger towards him.

“Fine.” Mini-Dave says softly, and Rush notes how his eyes glance down towards their interlaced hands before returning to the others. “We were discussing what to do next.”

He seems stressed. Of course, that’s to be expected with the situation at hand but… mini-Dave just seems _worse_ today. Emmy keeps on looking worriedly at him, and Rush’s eyes narrow in concern.

“So what’ve we decided so far?”

“Nothing substantial currently.” Torgal answers, both pairs of arms folding across his chest in clear agitation. “The World is elusive. The Conqueror even more so. The only option, it seems, is to wait.”

That’s probably expected. They’re both probably biding their time. The Remnants in his head seem extra quiet as well, as if they’re waiting for something to happen. At least Rush can actually _think_ clearly now.

“There are more things to worry about as well.” Emmy suddenly says, frowning darkly. Rush doesn’t like the frown marring her face—he’s always appreciated Emmy, and has always missed Emma’s solid presence.

Then Emmy continues, and Rush almost wishes he didn’t find out.

“The God Emperor is coming here, to Athlum. A messenger came early this morning.” Her lips thin, glancing towards mini-Dave now. “He hasn’t mentioned the reason why, but I doubt it’s good.”

“And I thought all he did was sit on his butt all day.” Rush says, snorting aloud but Dave nudges him, to which he shoots a reproachful look. They still hold hands, though, so Rush is happy.

“From what I remember, he decided to… revoke his decision in condemning anyone who went after the Conqueror.” Dave says beside him quietly. “However, that was after all… the Remnants disappeared. I think he realised that it was better that way.”

“Oh yeah.” Rush says suddenly, perking up. He decides not to think about what happened _after_ but concentrates on _before_ the event. “I remember. The God Emperor was threatening to make everyone a traitor, right? But luckily we got to off the Conqueror before he could really do anything about it.” Or before _anyone_ could do anything about it. He remembers what Duke Qubine said, something about the different paths they could take. He doesn’t know what conclusion Qubine came to, but he’s certain that Dave wasn’t branded a traitor. Besides, Dave saved the world. He _better_ not have suffered any consequences.

“Yes, but…” Dave hesitates beside him, his grip on Rush’s hand instinctively tightening. “In this timeline, you all haven’t faced the Conqueror yet. With his temporary disappearance, the God Emperor has time to react and brand you as a traitor. Brand _Athlum_ as a traitor.”

Oh. Mini-Dave’s increase in stress suddenly makes sense, minus the whole situation other than the current one. That definitely isn’t good, and Rush has the feeling that his interference is probably the cause of this altered, more _endangered_ timeline.

( _always your FAULT ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS—_ )

Dave inhales sharply beside him suddenly, and Rush realises he’s gripping his hand too hard. Startled, he immediately slips his fingers away from Dave’s own, and tries not to acknowledge the concerned stare that Dave gives him. His shoulders hunch and he ultimately tries to close off his reaction to the return of those damnable voi ~~c( _CAN’T STAND US, CA_~~ _N’T STAND **YOU** THE TRUE **ABOMINATION** , A **BROKEN THING BRO ~~KEN REMNANT B R~~ O K E N**_ —) …

He clenches his fists, absentmindedly nodding to whatever is being said. Dave’s looking at him more now, but he finds he can’t really pay attention to that _either_.

“…tired, Rush?”

The voice breaks into ~~his( _O_~~ _UR_ ) thoughts, and he blinks, previously unfocused eyes fixating on Irina. It’s only then he notices that almost everyone is looking at him now, and he shirks immediately. What’d Irina say? She was asking whether he’s tired, right?

“Just, uh, thinking about things, I guess.” Rush says quickly ( _we think we pray we WISH for a better HOST_ ), a grin etched upon his features. “Carry on!” He doesn’t want to worry them. Though, maybe it’s too late, for Dave’s fingers are gripping his own lax ones tightly without him noticing at all. He squeezes Dave’s hand reassuringly, but the presence beside him doesn’t seem to stop shedding a concerned and tense air.

“Speaking of Rush, what does ours have to say about this?” Pagus’ voice cuts into his thoughts, through the constant _babble_ distracting hi _mbut we are always here M ~~HAC **always** he~~ re and **always** WIL **L BE WITHIN YOUR BR** OKEN MI—_), and Rush tries to focus once more, even if it is about mini him.

“… I’ll ask him after this.” Mini-Dave says finally after a small pause, suggesting maybe that he wants to do so alone. Rush wonders why. Mini-him seemed fine before, right? But then younger Dave carries on softly. “He’s not feeling too well at the moment.”

Oh. Maybe he’s just… really good at fooling himself.

But then he realizes it’s a morbid thought, and he tries not to think about it anymore.

“Now that we have the chance, I want to ask you a few questions.” Younger Dave’s voice cuts through the air abruptly, hardened eyes narrowed upon his counterpart. Rush sees the harsh judgement already dealt within that gaze, and hopes Dave just isn’t being hard on himself. Or rather, his future self. Well, past being hard on future self… man, it sounds really weird when Rush starts to think about it too hard.

“Go ahead.” Dave says softly, and Rush reaches for his hand once more, squeezing it affectionately. There’s an answering squeeze back.

“Why did you take enthral Rush and take him?” Younger Dave’s voice is hardened and _venom_ incarnate. That infamous glare that has brought _trembles_ upon many is centred harshly upon his counterpart, but the Dave beside Rush now doesn’t seem very moved by it. Probably because, well, they _are_ the same person; maybe the glare isn’t very effective against the same guy who dishes out the same glare every once in a while.

Still, the question itself is… unsettling. Even Rush doesn’t know this, and he finds himself not exactly _wanting_ to know. After all, he doesn’t want to believe that his Dave might be a bad guy, even if it his actions are to protect him. Or the future. Because Rush _is_ the Caite Iarsma, and Dave… Dave knows that the World had been coming back to awaken him which in turn basically screws up _everything_ so…

“Because I love him.”

Or that. Rush fidgets, heart beating faster at the admission. He likes it when Dave says that. But he doesn’t like it when it’s a reason to an action that’s caused upset, especially with… _younger_ Dave. Rush doesn’t know anymore. He probably shouldn’t take sides, but he still trusts his Dave. Younger Dave. Ugh.

Dave carries on then, his voice soft in contrast to the unchanging, harsh features of his younger counterpart. “I knew that Rush would sacrifice himself to destroy all the Remnants. I didn’t want him to suffer for it, and I know that he won’t ever agree to keeping himself safe because—“

“He’s Rush.” Younger Dave finishes for him quietly, and Dave nods.

“Wait, wait.” Rush says, crossing his arms and turning to look at the man beside him. “How do you know? I mean, I can take care of myself! Maybe we could’ve worked _together,_ Dave! It’s not _that_ bad for you to come and kidnap my younger self!”

He stops short when he sees Dave actually _flinch_ at his words. Well, not exactly _flinch-flinch_ but it’s a near enough gesture, and Rush feels bad almost immediately. He _did_ kinda sound mean… and he _could_ have worded it a bit better, he supposes…

“It _is_ bad.” Dave says quietly, but he still doesn’t meet Rush’s gaze. “You don’t see yourself through my eyes, Rush.”

He doesn’t really have an answer for that. He could go on to say that he’s perfectly _fine_ but Dave’s already seen him at his worst, has helped him _tolerate_ it at most. Apparently, even after doing so, Dave still is convinced that his younger self needs saving.

But… _why_?

“Isn’t it necessary, though?” Rush asks, frustrated despite himself. “I mean, Remnants… Remnants don’t need to be here. They live ( _WEARE **ETERNAL**_ ) off _everyone’s_ souls and they have Collap ~~ses _humanityisFICKLE_~~ ) and they aggravate all the monsters! I… _have_ to die.”

 ~~( _and ta **ke us d** own W_~~ _ITH YOU?_ )

 He never really thought about it before, but he knows now in his head what has to happen, what he has to do. Or, at least, what his _younger_ self has to do. He’s sure mini-Rush will agree with him once he finds out.

At his words though, both Daves look at him with such _hurt_ eyes that he has to mentally backtrack, unable to deal with _that_ of all things. The Generals seem to be uncomfortable with the very idea, Blocter on the verge of protesting, but then _Irina_ steps in front of him, eyes blazing with _anger._

“Don’t you _dare_!” Her voice is shrill with _panic_ and Rush suddenly regrets speaking so _brashly_ about his own life in front of everyone. Maybe he should’ve kept his opinion to himsel ~~f( _youalwayshave **us**_ )~~. _Now_ they’ll all probably go and stop him, which would _not_ be good for the future. Don’t they _see_ though…?

“You dying isn’t the only option! You should _know_ that!” Her fists are clenched, and Rush can see the hurt underlying her ey ~~es ( _always hurting E_~~ _VERYONE always **damning** them **always** maki—_

Rush frowns. He doesn’t get it, and opens his mouth to protest. “But the Remnants—!”

“—Aren’t our only problem.” ( _delicio ~~usly **fresh** soul~~_ ~~)You~~ nger Dave interrupts. He’s got that political, contemplative face on and Rush quietens, albeit reluctantly. Dave’s right, of course. He doesn’t even have to continue, but he does. “The World is an even bigger concern. Whatever the Conqueror is up to, they’re both a problem we still have to deal with.” He str ~~ai~~ ghtens, eyes narrowing at Rush. “We _will_ find another way to defeat _both_ of them _without_ any sacrifices.”

Rush cross ~~es~~ his arms and, unable to meet that gaze, looks away. He doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t even know why he was so adamant on the past remaining the same in the first place.

( **_afraid_** _, mhac?_ )

Yeah. He kinda is. _Was_.

“You bound Rush to yourself. What was the reason for that exactly?”

Wait. _What_?

His head jerks back then, immediately tuned in once more. Jaw dropping, he turns to his Dave in an accusatory fashion. “But you already have _me_!”

( _you’r ~~e br **oke** n~~_ ~~)~~

He’s not jealous. No. Of course not. Not of _himself_. That would be really dumb. But then there’s Dave beside him, looking wholly uncomfortable all of a sudden.

( **_unworthy_** )

“I know.” Dave says, and his eyes are gentle when they regard him. “But… even if I am already bound to you, I had to make sure he was safe. The bond would allow me knowledge of both of your whereabouts and… and whether you’re in trouble.”

( _ ~~useless~~_ )

“Shut up.” Rush whispers, but catches himself when Dave balks at the sudden words, eyes wide in disbelief and hurt. Okay. Note to self: _never_ do that again accidentally because he _hates_ causing such a look within those eyes. He holds up his hands, trying to ignore the confused and concerned expressions of the Generals behind him and younger Dave on the side. “Sorry, sorry! I, uh, I wasn’t…” Uhm. How can he phrase this? “Er. Remnants again. Yeah. Anyway,” He carries on quickly, trying to bowl over the realization in Dave’s eyes and the growing desire there to pursue _that_ topic instead. “I get it. I just… yeah. Nevermind.”

Dave looks like he wants to drag him to the side and demand the status of his wellbeing but Emmy miraculously saves him by stepping forward.

“Wait, how is that possible?” She asks, glances between them. They both look at her questioningly. “If you,” she gestures to Rush, “were dead, then how…” her frown directs to Dave, “how were you able to bind him at all?”

“I’m guessing you would not accept the explanation of our binding being recent, would you?” Dave asks wryly.

“I doubt you would be so knowledgeable of how your connection would work with such little time.” Emmy answers with a likewise smile. “Even if you are Lord David.”

Dave smiles briefly, but it fades just as quickly. “You’re right, of course. Myself and Rush, we…” He glances over. “We had visions of one another. Dreams, if you will, after Rush… disappeared.” His hand clenches at this, the only sign of his discomfort of that certain topic. “Three years ago. I was twenty-four, already adept at Magick. The world was fine, healing well after everything that’d happened.”

Three years? Huh.

Beside Rush, Irina bows her head. He wonders what she’s thinking and guesses it’s not anything good. He reaches out, grasps her hand, and squeezes it gently. She looks up, bewildered, but grins at him. He returns it briefly and pays attention when Dave continues.

“Then I started dreaming of…” Dave frowns, looks at him. “A void.” Rush barely refrains from shuddering. He doesn’t want to remember. But then, it’s _Dave_ who’s remembering. “I felt lonely, despairing, as if there would be no end to the nothingness. Yet, at the same time, I wasn’t alone. There were beings around me, taunting me.” The blond’s gaze is intent on Rush, as if silently asking something. After a moment’s hesitation, Rush nods, and Dave purses his lips before carrying on.

“But then after the first few dreams, I heard Rush’s voice. He was asking me who I was, and I—“

He’s interrupted by a sudden snort. Rush can’t help it. Looking back on it, it was kinda hilarious. “Yeah, and you completely ignored my question and started prodding at me.”

Dave’s startled at his amusement. “I… well, I was confused!”

“Your poking was _really_ insistent! Like, I didn’t even _know_ you could poke that well!” Rush backtracks quickly upon hearing the giggle from Irina, feeling heat shoot to his cheeks. “I-I mean, _mentally_ , that is!”

Dave looks affronted. “Will you let me finish?”

“Uh, no.” Rush answers, crossing his arms now. He turns to the others, amused at the baffled expressions. “Anyway, we talked a bit, somehow got bound to each other, then I started seeing Dave’s place and it was _really_ nice. You should’ve _seen_ Athlum, it’s _so_ cool!” Younger Dave perks up at this. Of course he would. And there’s his Dave, puffing his chest a little which is kinda mint. “Then I asked Dave to—er, I mean, that’s it!” Okay. Better not stray there. They don’t need to know _that_ extra baggage.

Of course, he’s not very smooth in his casual way of brushing over the accidental topic rise, but it gets the job done well enough. There’s Blocter looking like he’s about to protest, and Dave quickly steps in.

“I could’ve said that.” He says, and though it’s a distraction he sounds disgruntled.

“Yeah, but you have _no_ idea how dramatic you are, Dave.” Rush replies, sniggering at the thought.

“I’m not dramatic!” _Both_ the Daves turn on him now, looking _equally_ as offended at the other and Rush starts laughing.

“I beg to differ.” Pagus says with that sneaky qsiti smile of his, “I do remember you as a young child, my Lord. You would not stop yelling obscenities at a stone that tripped you until Torgal happened upon the scene.”

Even Torgal snorts at that, and Rush is inclined to believe _that_ , especially upon seeing how Dave is. It’s nice, knowing a bit more about the blond. They’ve hardly ever talked about themselves before, and back _then_ —right _now_ technically—Rush and Dave were… only ever focused on _two_ things and those were Irina and the Conqueror.

But… he remembers stolen glances, the joy of being in one another’s company, lingering touches and…

And that look on Dave’s face when he thought Rush was going to leave him forever.

( _you only hurt_ )

Rush can almost agree with that.

“Alright.” Younger Dave gets them back on track. “Marion’s Blessing. Your connection to the World. Explain.” Apparently Dave’s words aren’t enough to get his younger counterpart to like him any better. Rush frowns, and wonders whether he should intervene on that matter.

Dave doesn’t seem to have any trouble abiding by the demand to information. Then again, it’s not like he’d been shy with it moments before.  Rush is kinda curious too, though. Out of everything, Dave’s involvement with Magick is something he knows the least about, and Marion’s _Blessing_ —

( _**CEASE** IT, **DESTROY** IT TH **AT CURS** ED ~~MAGICK OF T~~ HE **W O R L D** _ )

Aaand they’re back. Rush didn’t even _notice_ they went silent, but now…

 ( _mhachowca ~~nyou **sta**~~ **nd** IT_—)

Ugh. He’s starting to feel dizzy. He tries to pay attention when Dave starts talking, though. And that’s probably helped along by the fact that Dave seems to have grasped his hand again. Rush strangely can’t feel his warmth.

( _he’ll leave you_ )

A chill of foreboding ru ~~ns d( _leave_ )~~own Rush’s spine.

 _No. He won’t_.

He hates the thought.

 _Just shut up_.

“…—rsion of the Blessing Irina has.” Dave is saying now, and Rush beats himself up inwardly. So much for paying attention.  “And the World… is a far more complicated matter.”

Dave gets a glint in his eyes that Rush doesn’t like. “As far as I know, the World is connected to me through a contract. The contract itself is something I cannot break, and it’s similar to the one Wagram himself had.”

The younger Dave frowns, and Rush finds himself watching him listen so attentively. It’s sorta cool to see him so… _intensive_. Or maybe Rush is just really weird and too fascinated with Dave himself.

 _Focus, focus_.

( _you never ~~**can** , m~~hac_ )

Dave pauses, then continues quietly. “In short, the contract provides power and knowledge in exchange for the soul.”

“What?!” The bark is out of Rush’s mouth before he can stop it. He hadn’t known _that_ detail. “No! You can’t _do_ that—!” He won’t accept that. He _can’t_ accept that because—

“Rush.” Dave interrupts him calmly and turns to him. “Did you forget that it’s the same as when I’d been bound to the Gae Bolg?”

“Yeah! But—“ Rush shakes his head in frustration, clenching his fists tightly because he ( _you won’t AL ~~LO~~ W it, how **nobl ~~e~~** ~~, how **precious** for the **soul** i~~ s something we have always **desi ~~red~~** ~~so **GREA**~~ **TLY** a_ ~~nd~~ this is _why_ — “You realise that’s why I took away all the Remnants in the _first place_ , right?! I didn’t want _anyone_ — _especially_ you—to have their _souls_ eaten up and now you’ve gone and done _this_?!”

( _angry, mhac?_ )

Dave doesn’t seem to want to answer for a moment. Rush kinda regrets blowing up at him in front of everyone else, but he wants Dave to _know_ that. _Both_ versions, if necessary, because _apparently_ Dave still doesn’t consider his own _soul_ worthy enough to keep _safe_.

“That doesn’t matter.” Dave replies quietly and Rush almost _yells_ at him—because this is _stupid_ and he can see that even the _Generals_ don’t seem too concerned but why, _why?!_ —but Dave continues on before he can get a word out. “It hadn’t been just about me, Rush. I wanted to protect Athlum, the world… _your_ legacy.” He closes his eyes, and Rush’s anger rises despite himself.

“But I wanted to protect _you_!”

He’s _seething_ , teeth bared and he _almost_ regrets his outburst right away but his own stubbornness sets him there, _keeps_ him there, glaring even when the Generals are looking at him, shocked, even when Irina’s tugging at his arm and even when Dave’s there in front of him _and_ on the other side of him, staring at him with such _unreadable_ expressions.

More words are on the tip of his tongue. How he wants to protect everyone, _everyone_ close to him, especially Irina _and_ Dave but Dave _apparently still doesn’t get that_. He wants to iterate his own feelings, repeat them over and over again until Dave gets it, until Dave starts protecting _himself_ because he’s scared that Dave will do something _stupid_ and-and—

Dave’s getting to something. He’s gonna say that through the contract he can defeat the World. Through the contract, he can do something _dumb_ and sacrifice himself despite Rush just wanting to keep him _safe_ ; Rush can see where this is heading, through the sadness in his gaze and Rush can’t _stand_ it.

He turns. Runs.

He’s still the same boy that fought against the Conqueror, afraid to lose everyone he ever cared about. He’s still the same child that wouldn’t listen and wouldn’t put Irina out in the field because he was afraid she’d get hurt. He’s still the same person that couldn’t trust his own loved ones to look after themselves, but how _can_ he when they’re about to deliberately…?

Rush knows he’s a hypocrite. He knows it. But _they’re_ more important. _They_ should be safe but… ugh, _maybe_ that’s the same way they feel about him but he can’t just-he _won’t_ let them—!

He ignores the calls after him. He doesn’t want to hear it.

 _Don’t leave me, Dave_.

In this world of the past, he’s all Rush has left, after all.

( _~~he’ll leave you~~_

 _—C a         it e                I a r    sma_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uggghhh i'm so sorry for the two month wait. but i hope this big chapter is worth it!!! lkjaskfj i hope y'all have a fab day and stuff! :uu don't forget to leave kudos if you enjoyed and comments are food.
> 
> either way, i'm grateful to everyone that takes the time to read my fic!!! it must be a whole lot to go through ; ^ ; and thanks to everyone who's left a kudos and comment and just laksjf have stuck with me all the way. i really appreciate it!!


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